


friends with benefits

by brosura



Series: the Good Time Train™ [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst Lite the beverage of choice on this Good Time Train, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Illness & Recovery, Light Angst, Lovers to ???, M/M, Shenanigans & Tomfoolery, Underage Drinking, but not really underage b/c i assumed 18 is the drinking age in insomnia, first two chapters are Gen, friends with benefits where the benefits are a comprehensive healthcare plan with dental and a 401k, not the benefits ur thinking of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9652181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brosura/pseuds/brosura
Summary: Prompto has always known that Noctis was the prince, but he’s only ever really cared that Noctis was his friend. And he thought it was pretty clear that he didn’t befriend Noctis for the money and gifts.In hindsight, he probably should have just said that much to Noctis.Or, The Adventures of Reluctant Gold Digger Prompto Argentum and his Rich Best Friend.





	1. refreshments provided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now listen up y’all, I am fully aware Noctis and Prompto had some #baggage even before Insomnia fell, but it is much more fun and fulfilling to write them as a couple of dumb teens havin fun and livin their lives in spite of their circumstances so if u came to this fic, which is titled based off a joke, expectin some sad bad times u better calm down and leave that at the door b/c this is the Good Time train, where we ignore the future and only drink Angst Lite™
> 
> anyway sorry but this game left me so shook the only thing i can do is be aggressively positive in my fics. this was really just born out of me projectin my sugar mama habits from when i had 2 jobs and was the most financially stable in my crew onto my son Noctis, who probably has the wealth and connections to handle spoiling his friends and enjoy doing so
> 
> here’s hoping y’all enjoy ur ride on the Good Time train

If Prompto has to guess, he’d say that the Argentums are pretty well off.

Maybe they're not loaded and his parents’ jobs still keep them busy most days and nights, but Prompto doesn’t really remember ever truly wanting for something other than attention. He always has enough money for food, gets a monthly allowance and his parents seem happy to pay for his school books and uniforms. If he just asks, he can get money for clothes when he needs them and even got his first camera as a gift back when he was a kid. Sure, he’s had to get a few jobs on the side to support his hobbies and habits (namely, photography and afternoons at the arcade), but he figures that’s pretty normal stuff for kids his age.

He’s explained as much to Noctis, he’s sure. His life as a commoner had come up unexpectedly often over the course of their almost year-long friendship. Sometimes it was just innocent curiosity, an expected byproduct of the prince’s relatively sheltered life.

Other times it was to negotiate boundaries when Noctis forgot his status and had to be lightly reminded that not everyone lived the way he did. But they’re long past Prompto’s insecurity about how unluxurious his place is compared to Noct’s apartment (just the apartment, to say nothing of the _Citadel_ ) as well as the long negotiation that was explaining to Noct that _no, he can’t hang out today_ and _yes, he_ had _to keep up his side job for pocket money, that’s pretty common for plebes._ Aside from being a little pouty whenever Prompto had to turn him down to work a shift, Noctis had mostly taken it in stride.

So Prompto’s sure Noctis knows that he’s plenty financially stable. Which is why he’s a little suspicious of Noct’s sudden change in behavior.

It’s a fairly recent development in their friendship and, as far as Prompto can tell, not caused by anything in particular. He knows they’re not approaching anything like an anniversary because he’s _definitely_ been keeping track, something he’s not even slightly embarrassed by since it’s not everyday the prince of your country _wants_ to be your friend. And their dynamic is otherwise the same: they still spend their afternoons goofing off in whatever arcade or cafe they find themselves in until they get tired or Noctis’ advisor or Shield come to nag him into doing something princely.

It’s just now, Prompto rarely spends anything other than his time.

***

The first time it happens, it’s almost passable as an accident.

They’re getting crepes from the usual cafe after school, but when Prompto receives his finished crepe, he’s hit with an immediate, sinking kind of horror as he realizes that he’s left his wallet behind in his locker. He’s just steeled himself to negotiate with the cafe owner to pay later that day or the next day - she knew them well enough as regulars - but Noctis steps in and pays before he can say anything.

“It’s fine,” he says, waving a hand as Prompto tries to hand him some cash the next day. “Just pay for me next time or something.”

But something in his tone makes Prompto suspect there won’t be a next time, and he doesn’t even have to wait a week to be proven right.

***

Two days later, while Prompto is preoccupied with the new rhythm game the arcade has installed, Noctis leaves and comes back with the sandwiches they’d been talking about getting “after this round” four rounds ago.

“Got sick of waiting for ‘this round’ to be over,” he says, but he changes the topic when Prompto tries to pay him back.

***

The next time they hang out, Prompto comes to the arcade late because his teacher needed someone to run some files over to the front office after class and he felt bad when no one volunteered immediately. When he finally gets to the arcade, he finds Noct sitting on the bench near the front playing King’s Knight on his phone.

“Oh, you’re here,” he says, tone carefully nonchalant as always, and hands Prompto an arcade card. “Got you this, didn’t want to have to wait for you to make it through the line.”

Prompto blinks at the pay station and then back to Noct, because there’s _no line_ _,_ and he says as much out loud, but Noct just waves him off.

“Whatever, let’s just play already,” he grumbles, already walking towards one of the machines. “Or are you _that_ worried about me kicking your ass?”

Objectively, he knows it’s just bait to change the topic, but he can’t resist taking it, that playfully competitive side of him is just so much easier to indulge. He does pause when he swipes the card for the first time and he sees that the remaining credits balance is probably enough to last him at least the entire month. It feels weird and exploitative, but he’s not sure how to bring it up without making things awkward and he knows Noct will only find some new, artful way to dodge the subject.

But it feels dirty going to the arcade and spending Noctis’ money without Noctis, so he picks up shifts at the closest fast food restaurant when Noctis is busy instead.

***

It’s been a month and Prompto still hasn’t paid for anything whenever he and Noctis hang out.

And it’s not for lack of trying. He tries, he really does, but Noctis always manages to somehow get to the register before him. Once he had almost made it, but the cashier was a pretty girl who had complimented his t-shirt and that left him just struck enough that Noct was able to gently shove him aside and hand her his credit card before he could protest.

Sure, it’s nice on Prompto’s wallet - he actually has a savings stash now and he’ll be able to afford an upgrade on his camera a lot faster - but he isn’t completely sure what to make of it. He has a few working theories, but none of them seem wholly correct.

His first was that this whole thing was Noct’s subtle way of getting him to quit his job so they could hang out more, but even when he’d worked into conversation that his current employ had him on contract no matter what until the end of the year, Noctis didn’t stop. And Noctis is only getting busier and busier these days, to the point that Prompto has been able to pick up more shifts while Noctis is off doing whatever princely duty he’s unable to neglect at the moment.

Then he thinks maybe Noctis feels bad for making him miss out on work and is paying for him as a way to settle the difference. But it’s not like they go anywhere Prompto wouldn’t be able to afford anyway, and Prompto has a regular work schedule for at least his main job that he’s been pretty steadfast in keeping, and his part time at the fast food restaurant is relatively flexible.

_It might be pity,_ a point the cruel part of him always wanders to. _He might just be the charity case commoner the prince keeps around to feel good about himself._ But he doesn’t think that’s it. That’s not something Noctis - who was more pouty than anything when Prompto turned him down to go to work and almost always overstepped first and apologized later when it came to their differences in station - would do.

Or, that’s what he hopes, at least.

***

“I imagine he’s trying to thank you for your patience in remaining his friend,” Ignis says, when Prompto finally feels brave enough to ask.

Noctis is off in his room taking an afternoon nap as usual, so Prompto is keeping Ignis company in the kitchen while Ignis tries and fails to get him to focus on his homework. It’s not for lack of trying, but Prompto knows Ignis’ weakness is his interest in the prince’s daily life and well-being, and he exploits that weakness whenever he can. Especially when, like today, he’s hoping it’ll give him some insight on Noctis’ sometimes enigmatic behavior.

He wasn’t originally going to say anything, but as the weeks go by and Noct continues to drop cash on him, he can’t stop himself from asking. The answer comes surprisingly easy, Ignis doesn’t even have to think about it that long, but that’s probably because the guy’s been around Noct since they were kids and because, knowing the two of them, Ignis was probably the one managing Noctis’ finances and noticed the sudden spike in the prince’s spending on his own.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed, but Noct has a hard time making and keeping friends that aren’t in some way influenced or dissuaded by his status and duties as prince. And despite being a prince, he is far from a master of diplomacy or communication, so I suspect that he’s trying to show you his gratitude in the only way he feels he is able: by lavishing you with gifts.”

Ignis says it so matter-of-factly that it seems almost obvious in hindsight. Obvious, but no less uncomfortable.  

“Ugh, when you put it like that,” Prompto groans in his seat, kicking lightly at the counter. He stops when Ignis gives him a pointed glare. “I wish he’d stop. I didn’t become his friend for the perks and I’m not going to stop just because he suddenly has to go be the prince. This whole thing just makes me feel like a gold digger or something.”

“Well, your lack of shamelessness certainly clears you of that particular charge,” Ignis smirks. “But I’m sure if you told Noctis how you felt, he’d hold off on the lavishing.”

_“Please_ don’t say it like that. ‘Lavish,’” Prompto repeats, scrunching up his nose at the sound. “Now I _really_ feel dirty.”

“I’m sure we can find another equally descriptive word,” Ignis continues, unapologetic. “Spoil perhaps. Indulge. Or maybe even pamper-”

“Stop stop stop!” Prompto cuts in, shuddering. “I get it, I get it. Stop bothering you, start studying. Yeesh, I didn’t think it was possible, but now I feel _dirtier_.”

“Yes, yes,” Ignis’ tone is slightly victorious. “But Prompto?”

“If you give me another word that’s nastier than ‘lavish,’ I’m just going to eat at home,” Prompto grimaces at the word again.

“Not quite,” Ignis smiles at him and it’s almost the warm, indulgent one he gives Noct. Prompto’s honestly a little taken aback by it for a moment, because the guy could barely stand his guts when they’d first met and it’d taken months to get comfortable just bantering with him. “I just wanted to tell you that I would strongly consider telling the prince everything you’ve just told me. If nothing else, I think at the very least it would grant the both of you peace of mind on the status of your friendship.”

_Peace of mind for the_ both _of them._ Prompto thinks about it for a moment and curses inwardly. He hadn’t thought about Noct yet, he was so used to taking the prince’s carefully constructed carelessness at face value, to basking in the warmth and safety of that confidence. But Ignis - Ignis, who was closer to Noct than just about anyone - has just suggested that Noct’s as insecure about their friendship as he was. _Woops_ _,_ he thinks, but there isn’t anything he can do about it right now, not with Noct asleep and Prompto a bundle of anxious nerves himself.

“S-sure, I will,” he stutters out, resolving that he _would_ tell Noct as much, if only not today, then throws on an easy grin that feels a little weak. “Wow, Iggy. That’s some A+ advice. You thinking of becoming _my_ advisor, too?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Ignis says, flatly. “Though I’m sure Noct would be happy to foot the bill.”

Prompto groans and Ignis’ answering smirk is just the level of shit-eating for things to feel normal again.

***

“I have to tell you something,” he forces out, the next time he and Noct hang out. They’re at the Crow’s Nest sharing a plate of fries (which Noct paid for, of course).

“Shoot,” Noct says, absentmindedly, more focused on his phone than the conversation. Most people would find it rude, but in this moment Prompto finds it more comforting than anything.

He’s about to say it - he really is - he’s thought it all out in his head and repeated it twice, but then he sees Noct’s Shield through the glass window. Before he can stop himself, he waves and tries to act like he’s just happy to see Gladio and not relieved at the excuse to avoid the conversation. The motion catches Noct’s attention, and the prince levels a glare at him for giving away their location. He just shrugs in response.

“Thanks for the assist, Prompto. Good to know you’re useful for something.” Gladio says, ruffling at Prompto’s hair and he’s too surprised to be upset that his carefully groomed hair is in ruins now. _That’s new_ , he thinks. Gladio seemed to only tolerate him before. Then he remembers Ignis, and the way he almost immediately warmed when Prompto had confided in him that he’d only ever wanted to be Noct’s friend for that reason alone, not out of any desire for status or wealth. _Who knew Noct’s people were such big gossips?_  

“Traitor,” Noctis grumbles, distracting him from the thought. “Is it that time already?”

“It’s that time,” Gladio sounds equal parts disapproving and amused as Noct drops to a dead weight onto the table. “Come quietly and I won’t tell Ignis about the fries.”

“Fine,” Noct drawls, pulling up his bag from under the table. He’s about to slide out of their booth when he pauses, blinking at Prompto in realization. “Oh yeah, what’d you want to tell me earlier?”

“O-oh, right,” he freezes, struggling for some excuse that could pass as natural after fully believing he’d dodged this bullet. “Don’t think I can meet up Friday. Coworker’s got a thing, asked me to pick up. You know how it is.”

“That’s cool,” Noctis says, unaffected. He’s used to this by now. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yup.”

As Noct gets up to leave, Gladio stares at Prompto for a moment, long enough for Prompto to feel uncomfortable, expression inscrutable. Then they say goodbye and they’re gone, leaving Prompto alone with his thoughts and a quickly cooling plate of fries.

***

In the end, Ignis is the one who presses him into the conversation. He’d been putting it off for two weeks now, and he’d been avoiding Ignis for just as long, not ready to deal with the feeling that he was disappointing Noct’s advisor, as foolish as that was.

But Noct had insisted they hang out at his apartment today - Prompto couldn’t remember the reason why - and Ignis is naturally there. He doesn’t seem mad or anything, but he does give Prompto a long, meaningful look when he says he’ll need to step out to grab some ingredients for the dinner he’s cooking them tonight.

It’s as great a time and place as any, they’re alone in a familiar place, and Ignis has all but said they won’t be interrupted like they were at the Crow’s Nest. (Which, evidently, was why Gladio had given him that strange look. _Gossips._ ) He still puts it off, though, for as long as he can, until Noct gets a text from Ignis saying he’s on his way home and about ten minutes out.

It still takes him a moment, and he’s not sure if it’s the time constraint pushing his procrastinator’s brain or the comfort that it’ll be over in a few minutes no matter how the conversation goes, but he finally feels brave enough.

“D-dude, I have to tell you something,” he says, taking a deep breath when Noctis looks at him expectantly. “I know what you’ve been doing, with the- the paying for me thing? I think I get it.”

Noctis’ face drops, ever so slightly, but he manages to sound nonchalant when he replies with a casual, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Prompto sucks in another breath, wishing he had Noct’s skill when it came to acting cool. “Listen you- You don’t have to like, buy my loyalty or anything, ok? I didn’t become friends with you because you were the prince. Well, I kinda did, but not _because_ you were _the prince,_ if that makes sense. I never expected any, I don’t know, _benefits,_ I guess?” Prompto cringes a little at his phrasing, but forges onward. “What I mean is, don’t worry, or maybe get worried, because I’m stuck with you for the long haul no matter what. So you don’t have to keep getting me stuff just for being your friend. You just- you don’t have to, ok? Sorry, if that got real.”

He tacks on the apology as an afterthought, but he’s glad he did because the silence that follows is terrifying even with the feeble balm of a hasty apology. Prompto can’t even bring himself to look at Noctis because even though he was his friend, he was still the prince, and maybe Prompto had been too forward or overstepped or _something._

“I know I don’t have to,” Noctis finally says, and he sounds so uncharacteristically giddy that Prompto can't help hazarding a look. Noct's expression is still carefully schooled into something vaguely mischievous and far away from any extremes of emotion, but Prompto can see something like relief running underneath. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop.”

“Nooooooo,” Prompto groans, but if he’s honest with himself, he’s just as relieved as he is frustrated by this development. _Peace of mind_ , Ignis had said, maybe that’s what it feels like. “Ugh, come on, dude, work with me here. I already feel like a gold digger.”

“Quit your job so we can hang out more.”

“No,” he shoots back, quickly, and Noctis laughs.

“Then you’re not a gold digger,” he grins, even as Prompto goes to punch him. “I think a more accurate term is sugar b-”

Prompto shoves a pillow in his face before he can finish the word, happy that his _asshole_ best friend can’t see his rapidly forming blush. Noctis struggles as Prompto pins him down by a pillow to the face, but his muffled laughter is enough for Prompto to know he’s fine.

Ignis chooses to walk in on that moment. He blinks indulgently as Prompto jumps away from Noctis with the pillow before going on to the kitchen to put away the groceries in his hand.

“By all means, do go on,” he deadpans. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Prompto tried to murder me, Ignis,” Noctis says, but he doesn’t sound anything but amused. “With a pillow.”

“Yes, well, I’ll be sure to add attempted assassination by pillow to his list of charges against the crown, alongside his… how do your contemporaries put it? Ah, gold digging.”

Noctis’ grin is viciously delighted, so Prompto grabs the pillow and goes in for the kill before he can say anything.

“I understand the sentiment, Prompto,” Ignis says, unconcerned as the two of them struggle on the couch. “But do try to keep him alive for at least another hour. I’d hate for this food to go to waste, after all.”

***

Prompto pays for their fries the next time they go to the Crow’s Nest and two days later, Prompto shows up to his shift at the fast food restaurant to find a bespectacled Noctis dressed up in one of their uniforms and his boss introducing him as their new coworker, ‘Nox.’

He laughs so hard when they finally clock out that Noctis chases him, grumbling, all the way to his apartment and then pays for two Jetty’s and a salmon the next time they eat together in revenge.

It’s a compromise though, and he can work with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know Noct got a job while he was in insomnia and i can’t tell if everyone knew, but i like to think he tried to go incognito, but everyone still knew who he was and was just nice enough to let him be. this also applies to most of the NPCs in the game, just dutifully ignoring the fact that Noctis is clearly The Prince and letting him run around saving chocobos bc thats what he wants. also yes, Noctis was about to call Prompto a sugar baby. fun fact, I’m listed as “sugar mama” on three of my friend’s phones because when I get drunk I buy everyone food 
> 
> Leave me comments here to let me know how ur time on the Good Time train was or [yell at me on tumblr](http://brosura.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> next time on the adventures of reluctant gold digger prompto and his rich best friend: a comprehensive healthcare plan


	2. comprehensive healthcare plan included

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall! first of all thanks for all the kudos and feedback??? y’all are makin me blush
> 
> anyway i ended up deciding that the promptis coworker business actually didn’t quite fit The Vibe of this chapter (and it was getting too long), so like square enix n the dev team did with the game, i’m going to put everything in different places and expect u to read all of it ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ jk, but i will be posting a companion fic as soon as i'm able if y'all were into that idea
> 
> also bumped this fic from gen to m/m b/c as i’m writing it it’s getting more shippy, but the True Shippy stuff will be in the last two chapters if you came here for the gen and the dumb teens and the good time train

Noctis doesn’t pay for _everything_ anymore, but he does pay _most_ of the time.

It does feel a little better knowing that Noctis now makes at least some of his money working the fast food restaurant with Prompto and they mostly eat for free during their breaks these days, so the guilt of Noct constantly paying for him is at least lessened along with the frequency that they actually spend money.

By the time they’re a week away from exams, Prompto has completely stopped caring.

He’s practically living on the couch in Noct’s apartment by that point. There’s a duffle bag in the corner with a few of his school uniforms and some casual clothes (laundered once thanks to Ignis) and his toothbrush rests in a little cup next to Noctis’ in the bathroom.

Ordinarily, he’d feel bad about taking advantage of Noctis like this, but he’s stressed enough as it is from the consequences of a semester of half-assing homework and he can’t resist the steady flow of food and Ebony that come as benefits to being Noct’s friend. That, and Ignis’ nagging is practically the only thing keeping him from goofing off instead of studying.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), Ignis is Noctis’ advisor and not his, so he can’t be counted on to remind Prompto of every little thing the way he does for Noct. Which is how Prompto, in the stressed haze of pre-exam week, forgets that he wears contacts.

He remembers this fact when he wakes up from a short nap with a stinging in his eyes and, only after he’s already done hastily removing his contacts, realizes that not only did he neglect to bring his contact solution but he has nowhere to put his contacts now that they’re out. He resigns himself to retiring this pair, but can’t stop the stab of disappointment and guilt as he watches them fall to the trash in Noctis’ half-bath.

He can still see without them, but he knows he’s sure to get a headache if he studies for any longer than an hour unaided and that’s really not something he can afford at this point. So, with great reluctance, he pulls out the battered old case from his bag.

Prompto hasn’t gotten his glasses replaced since he was maybe thirteen, but he knows his prescription is the same as his contacts, at least. Still, he must look ridiculous, with his battered frames, the joints of which are haphazardly held together by tape and glue. So when Noctis walks in from his bedroom and does a double take at the sight of him, Prompto gets very, _very_ insecure.

“Since when do _you_ need glasses?” is the first thing Noctis says, tilting his head with an amused quirk of the lips.

“Since always,” he tries to sound casual, but he can’t hide the anxious edge in his voice. He just can’t pull of nonchalant like Noctis can. “I’m usually a contacts guy, though. Don’t want to distract anyone from these cheekbones and all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Noctis says with a roll of his eyes, then he blinks as he takes the seat across from Prompto, seeming to finally notice the state of his glasses. “Dude, those things are _ancient.”_

“Thanks, man,” Prompto sighs. _There it is._ “Great to hear.”

“Like, on the level of my dead ancestors ancient,” Noctis continues, way too amused for Prompto’s liking. “Ancient history.”

“That’s kinda disrespectful, isn’t it?”

“It’s probably fine. They’re my ancestors, and it’s not like they _aren’t_ ancient history.”

“What if I was talking about me?”

“You weren’t,” Noctis’ answering smirk is smug, but he _is_ right. “You really gotta get a new pair though, dude. Those things look like they’re going to fall apart on your face.”

“Yeah, well,” Prompto slides the glasses off his face to fidget with them. He really _should_ have replaced them a while ago, but he always found some reason to put it off. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re running out of time to study for exams. Can’t exactly make a pit stop at the 24 hour lens store unless I want to miss out on valuable catch-up time.”

“Ignis is free right now,” Noctis says easily. _Too_ easily. Prompto _knows_ that tone. “He knows a pretty good place, too. Just give him your prescription and -”

“No no no, come on dude. It’s _fine,”_ Prompto cuts him off, clutching his glasses close to his body like he expects the prince to grab them and run in Ignis’ direction. If he’s honest, that’s pretty much exactly what he expects. “I know what this is. It’s not like I can’t afford them, ok? I honestly just never wear glasses unless I’m out of options and I’ve got plenty of contacts at home so I’m not exactly scrambling for a new pair. I promise I’ll go get these guys replaced after exams are over, but for now you better get used to some ancient history. Got it?”

Noctis doesn’t look satisfied, but he does shrug so Prompto knows that he’s conceded for now.

“Lemme try them on,” is what he says next. Prompto hands his glasses over, happy to end that conversation, and immediately starts laughing as Noctis gingerly puts them on, going cross-eyed and blinking at the change.

He looks ridiculous, dressed his wrinkled school uniform and squinting behind a pair of crap glasses. Prompto snaps a picture for the sake of future generations.

***

Naturally, that isn’t the end of the glasses conversation. The next day he and Noct come back from class to find Ignis looking uncharacteristically excited.

“Ah, welcome back, Prompto,” Ignis greets, tone brighter than Prompto is used to. “Noctis has informed me of your spectacles situation, so I’ve taken the liberty of setting everything up.”

Everything being an entire kitchen counter of tools and three _brand new_ glasses cases.

“Don’t look at me,” Noctis says, when Prompto looks between him and the counter for an explanation. He looks almost as uncomfortable as Prompto feels. “I just asked for a store recommendation, he did all this on his own.”

"I-Ignis, it’s cool, man,” Prompto gives him a weak grin. “We’ve gotta study and -”

“Nonsense. This will only take a moment. I’ve already ordered glasses with your current prescription, all that remains is for you to choose which set you prefer and for me to make any alterations you may need. Considering the state of your current spectacles, I daresay this is a worthwhile investment of a few minutes. Now, _sit!”_ Ignis gestures to the counter almost impatiently and Prompto obeys without thinking.

“Ignis is...passionate about glasses,” Noct says, sounding a little guilty as he sits next to Prompto.

Much to Prompto’s relief, none of the three cases have big name designer labels; one is even the same brand as his old pair. And when he opens the cases to take a look, he’s pleased to find they’re all simple in design with good quality frames and lenses, and all of them look like glasses he would pick for himself, if a little more stylish and flattering. _Leave it to Ignis._

“Not just a nerd with glasses, also a glasses nerd. Got it,” he chuckles nervously as he slips on the first pair to catch his eye. He’s almost angry at how much he likes the way they look on him.

“Hurtful words,” Ignis deadpans, but Prompto can tell he’s far from caring. “And hypocritical, I might add. I’d say I’m far less passionate about my lenses than you are about yours. Now, have you made your choice?”

Prompto quickly tries on the other two pairs before nodding and deciding on the first. Ignis has him put them back on and stares at Prompto intently for long enough that it’s uncomfortable. Then he pulls the glasses off Prompto’s face without preamble and goes to work with one of the tools from the counter.

“Honestly,” Noctis says with a smirk as Ignis fiddles with the glasses. “I think he’s just happy he’s finally got someone to join him in the cult of the glasses.”

“Try these on,” Ignis ignores Noctis - it’s unclear if it’s because Noctis is annoying him or Noctis is right - and hands Prompto his glasses back to try on. “Do they rest comfortably on your face? Any pain or discomfort?”

“Nah, Iggy. They’re perfect. Thanks,” he says, because they are. He’s forgotten what it felt like wearing glasses that didn’t slip off his nose and squeeze his head. And admittedly, it’s nice to have these. But he _still_ wants to pay for them because he _can, dammit._

“Enough idling, then,” Ignis interrupts his internal rehearsal of how he was going to broach the topic, hastily clearing the kitchen counter. “Or have you forgotten the studying you so urgently wanted to get around to.”

“Wait, I -”

“C’mon Prompto,” Noctis says and drags Prompto away from the counter. “I need help with that math lesson I missed last week.”

Prompto frowns at the clear conspiracy happening before his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to do anything about it in that moment. So, in some backwards form of vengeance, he bitterly resolves to wear these glasses as little as possible once exams are over out of spite.

***

He doesn’t get to have his vengeance for very long.

There’s an opportunistic bug working its way through the sleep-deprived, undernourished ranks of their class in the wake of exam week. Prompto was hoping he’d be spared, since he’d lasted almost a month already and he only really spends time with Noctis, who was more or less immune to most commoner illnesses.

But when he wakes up with a burning throat and a throbbing headache, he knows he’s out of luck. Still, he’s determined to go to school, if only because catching up is always worse than suffering through a class. He skips his morning jog, fights his way through breakfast and coughs as much as he can into the sink. By the end of it he almost feels halfway normal, but his eyes burn in their sockets and all his attempts at putting in his contacts end in watery failure. So he grumbles, but puts on his glasses and thanks the Astrals that Noctis’ timing is on point as usual.

Noctis gives him a smug little grin when they meet up for school, but it’s quickly replaced by a look of concern. Instead of the comments Prompto was expecting about the glasses, Prompto gets a series of tentative questions about how he’s feeling, questions that Prompto does his best to dodge. Noctis doesn’t completely buy Prompto’s play at being healthy, but he mostly lets it go by the time class is over, and the walk from school to Noct’s apartment passes in an exhausted daze. If Prompto is honest with himself, he’s felt sick the whole day, but he doesn’t realize just how _truly awful_ he feels until he’s sitting on Noct’s couch. Or melting, that would be a better word.

“Dude,” Noctis says, leaning over to get a better look at him. Prompto’s just lost ten rounds of King’s Knight, an uncharacteristically bad streak that was probably what got Noct’s attention. “You look like shit. You should have told me it was that bad.”

“Well, aren’t you just a regular Prince Charming,” he croaks and immediately winces. Even just talking hurts.

“I’m serious,” he _sounds_ serious, almost uncharacteristically so, and Prompto blinks his eyes open to find Noct staring at him intently, expression drawn with undisguised concern. Before Prompto can say anything snappy to lighten the mood, Noctis presses the back of his hand to his forehead and flinches. “You should really go home and rest. You’re burning up, dude.”

“Fiiiiine, if you’re that _sick_ of me already, heh,” he jokes, or tries to anyway, but it sounds pitiful in his hoarse voice and Noctis isn’t laughing. Or at least, he doesn’t think Noctis is laughing, but it’s not like Prompto could hear it over the coughing fit his half hearted attempt at a laugh had spiraled him into anyway.

“I’m calling Ignis,” Noct says. Something in his tone is almost panicked, and ordinarily Prompto would be amused, but he can barely think straight as it is and he doesn’t even want to think about using his voice again just to tease Noctis about it. “He’ll drive you home.”

The ensuing conversation sounds like it’s happening in a bowl of water with how distorted Noct’s voice sounds. If Prompto focuses, he can hear the words Noctis is saying but he can’t quite piece them together in a way that makes sense to his feverish brain, so instead he lets himself focus on how comfortable the couch is, how warm it feels, how Noct left the soft pillow Prompto had used while he lived there before exams bunched up in a corner.

He doesn’t know if Ignis gets there before or after the world fades to black.

***

When he finally opens his eyes again, he’s immediately hit with a wave of throbbing pain.

“Afternoon, Prompto,” he hears Ignis’ voice to his left, likely in response to his groan of pain. He has to blink a few times before he can full recognize the vague shape of Ignis in the dim orange light from the setting sun.

“Ignis,” he croaks, groping at his surroundings in a desperate attempt at getting his bearings. “Ignis, am I dying?”

“I sincerely regret to inform you that you’ll survive this yet,” Ignis says, and suddenly he’s at Prompto’s side, pressing his glasses into his hand. Prompto slips them on gratefully. “It’s just the flu, albeit a particularly nasty strain. Though I’m sure your almost admirable disregard for your own health played a key role in the intensity of your symptoms, as well as the speed of their onset.”

“Ignis. Ignis, I didn’t understand anything you just said,” Prompto whines, only half-joking because Ignis’ assortment of fancy words in that soft accent was something that took a bit of effort for him to process even when he _didn’t_ feel like Ifrit was trying to bust through his skull. “I’m really dying, aren’t I?”

“No, Prompto,” Ignis huffs, sounding amused. “The prince has gone to great lengths to prevent at least _that._ Even ordered you under the care of his most trusted healer.”

“Noctis?” he croaks, removing his glasses and rubbing at the smears to distract himself from facing the guilt of passing out on Noctis’ couch.

“Ah, he couldn’t be here, but he instructed me to deliver your things and to tell you to text him when you woke up.”

Prompto mutters an affirmative and slides on his glasses again. He instinctively reaches towards where his nightstand would be to grab his phone and is immediately disoriented by the fact that he recognizes _none_ of his surroundings.

“This isn’t my house,” he says.

“An astute observation.”

“This isn’t Noct’s house.”

“Yet another astute observation. However, it isn’t wholly correct.”

_Not Noct’s house, but yes Noct’s house._ Prompto’s fevered brain pieced together. _That means…_

“I’m sorry!” he’s not sure why, but it’s the only thing he can bring himself to say. He suddenly feels _wrong_ in this bed, this soft bed that he is in _no way worthy_ of sweating out a fever in.

“I don’t know what you have to apologize for, it was the prince’s idea to have you brought to the Citadel.” _The Citadel._ There, it’s been said. Prompto can feel himself starting to panic. He _really_ wasn’t supposed to be here.

“I should go,” he says, moving to get out of bed, but he immediately feels dizzy.

“I’m afraid not, esteemed guest _Lord_ Prompto,” Ignis teases and Prompto calms down just enough to send him a glare. “The healer insisted on one night’s bed rest under her care, and I imagine any drowsiness you feel is thanks to the drug she gave you. Frankly, I’m surprised you woke up when I came in, but it did make it easier for me to deliver the prince’s message.”

Ignis hands him his phone and he dutifully sends Noctis a text reading, _I’m dead_ , to which Noctis immediately responds with, _Have Iggy get ur corpse of my bed b4 he leaves._ Prompto cringes at the reminder of just where he was.

“Sorry,” he says again, weakly, before he can help it.

“If you wish to apologize that badly, then I would do so to Gladio. Not only did he have to carry you in here, but you haven’t been fully cleared with security, so his little sister volunteered to guard you until the night staff comes in, though it’s more a part of her training than anything else. Speaking of which, you’re not to leave this room unaccompanied. I doubt you’re in much of a state to be wandering around anyway.”

“Gladio has a little sister?” he asks, latching onto that detail with interest because _that,_ at least, is news to him.

“Yes, and she’s a good natured girl who he loves very much and who has received the same combat training he has,” Ignis gives him a pointed glare. “Not to mention that she’s five years younger than the prince and yourself.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Iggy,” he frowns. “Glad to know you think I’m gonna be weird.”

“Just making sure things were clear,” Ignis responds, innocently. “Though I should warn you, she’s eager to meet you since you’re a friend of the prince. Try not to get overwhelmed.”

He tries to get an explanation for that, but Ignis all but ignores him.

***

True to Ignis’ word, Iris is _very_ overwhelming.

Shortly after Ignis leaves to make dinner for Noct, she busts into the room alongside the healer who Prompto can’t even get a name from over Iris’ babble, though neither of them really mind. Prompto, at least, is grateful that it’s a distraction from the constant feeling that he’s _not supposed to be here._ And she’s so obviously delighted to meet him that he almost feels bad for being too sick to be good company, and tries his best to keep up and answer her many questions about school and being a commoner and _Noctis._ She actually reminds him a little of Noctis in the early days of their friendship, though she’s _much less_ subtle about her curiosity.

But she’s cute and sweet and too small for Prompto to imagine her actually being trained in the same way Gladio was, even though he’d heard from Noctis that the Amicitias took their training very seriously and started very early. Either way, he gets why Ignis went full Big Brother when he’d asked about her. She has the kind of brightness that it’s easy to want to protect and nurture. So, while he’s exhausted, he can’t help but feed her curiosity.

“Did you know Noct got a job at a fast food restaurant and that I’m kinda like his boss?”

Iris brightens immediately and he doesn’t end up getting a break from storytelling until nearly three hours later when ‘Gladdy’ himself comes to drag her home.

***

Prompto sleeps through most of the next day.

He wakes up briefly in the morning to a text from Noct letting him know that Ignis called him in sick and calling him a traitor to the crown for telling Iris about the restaurant. Then he lets himself fall asleep instead of facing the fact that he’s alone in someone else’s house.

And that "someone else" is the prince and their "house" is the Citadel.

***

The next time he wakes up, it's some time in the afternoon and he finds he’s too restless to sleep.

The room feels just enough like Noctis’ apartment that he’s not totally anxious, but he still feels so out of place that he can’t really get comfortable enough to rest now that his body is no longer actively trying to die. He does get up to use the restroom at some point, deciding that the treason of peeing in the royal toilet is a step above the treason of peeing the royal bed, but it feels too much like snooping to wander around Noct's room, so he otherwise constrains himself to the bed, alternating between bothering Noct while he’s at school and playing King’s Knight.

It feels like ages before Noctis finally shows up with Gladio in tow.

“Hey, nerd,” Noctis says in way of greeting. He’s still dressed in his school uniform, bag slung over his shoulder.

“H-hey buddy!” Prompto replies, voice cracking from disuse. “Hey Gladio! O-oh, uh, sorry by the way. Heard you had to carry me in.”

“It was nothing,” Gladio says, gruffly. He has an amused little smirk on, though, so Prompto thinks the gruffness is just a permanent quality of his voice. “ _Actually_ nothing. You almost weigh as little as Iris. You oughtta apologize to me for _that_ though. Waking her up this morning was like poking a bear after your little late night gossip session.

“Apologize to me, too,” Noctis frowns, but it’s more like pouting. “That was sensitive information.”

“Yeesh, sorry,” Prompto laughs nervously. “Give a guy a break. I did almost die yesterday.”

It’s a joke, but something serious crosses Noctis’ expression, deepens his frown for a moment. But then the moment’s over and Noctis is tossing his schoolbag onto Prompto.

“Glad you’re still kicking,” he says, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Anyway, Gladio and I just came to say hi, but we’ve gotta do some training. Ignis said he can’t drive us back home until after dinner, so you’ve got some time to kill. He left your bag on a hook in the closet and the notes from class today are in the black notebook if you want to copy them already.”

“Wow, Noctis actually took notes?” Prompto says, already dumping the contents of Noct’s bag onto the bed. “I _must_ be in a coma or something ‘cause there’s _no way_ that would happen in real life.”

Gladio snorts and punches Noct in the arm, and Noctis just pouts again.

“I see your attitude’s back.”

“It never left!”

***

It’s some time before dinner's ready.

Prompto has already finished copying Noctis’ notes. He’s even showered at Noct’s insistence - and boy was _that_ an experience, the showers of royalty were some technologically advanced stuff - and changed into a pair of clothes Noctis lent him. They end up lazing around on Noctis’ bed until it’s time, playing King’s Knight with Gladio who’s slouched on a couch that’s bigger than Prompto’s bed and desk combined. Noctis has subtly checked his temperature at least five times, and it’d almost be cute if the prince’s hands weren’t _stupid cold._

Then, Gladio and Noct’s phones go off in unison, they share a conspiratorial look, and Noct is up and dragging Prompto by the wrist.

“Dinnertime,” is all he says as Prompto protests weakly. He’s still sick, after all, and even just sitting up so suddenly has his head spinning.

“Y’know I’m good,” he groans, letting himself fall heavy away from Noctis’ grip, but Noct is surprisingly strong and Prompto’s on his feet in no time. “Don’t think I’m hungry. I’ll just like, wait here until you’re done.”

Noctis just shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. He’s already dragging Prompto out of the room as Gladio tails them with an amused smirk on his face. “Just c’mon, you’ll feel worse if you don’t eat. And since you’re already here my dad said he wanted to meet you over dinner.”

He follows weakly, mostly hoping and praying that he would actually be able to eat whatever they were serving and not commit the ultimate treason of puking on the royal dinner table. And then, from the fog of his illness comes the realization that Noctis is _the prince_ , which means his _dad_ is…

“Oh my god!” Prompto croaks, a new dread sinking in his gut. He comes to a full stop, yanking Noctis back by the hand on his wrist and causing Gladio to crash into his back.

“Give a guy a warning,” Gladio grumbles, but Prompto’s not listening.

“Oh my god, I’m about to meet _the King_ and I’m sick and I look terrible! Oh god, Noct, I can’t go! I look really bad! I feel really bad! Noct, what if I get him sick?!”

“Funny, you didn’t care about getting _me_ sick,” Noct says, he’s pouting for a moment before his expression shifts to something reassuring. “It’s fine, he’s got the same vaccines and stuff as me, and you’ll be sitting on the opposite side of the table anyway. And it’s a _long_ table.”

It’s not _totally_ comforting. If he’s honest, he still feels guilty about just being around Noctis and his people like this, but apparently they’re all _very well_ taken care of and given regular boosters to ensure their immune systems are as strong as the Wall. Ignis had said as much the night before, when Prompto tried to apologize for even going to Noct’s apartment in the state he was in. Apparently, it _“wouldn’t do for the heir to the Crystal’s light to fall victim to just_ any _illness.”_

And despite his level of familiarity with the prince, the idea of meeting the King is _terrifyingly_ novel. Prompto hadn’t even considered the _possibility_ up to this point, he was so sure that he wasn’t important enough as Noctis’ commoner friend to even be let through the door of the Citadel, much less get a private audience with the King. By all logic, he _shouldn’t_ be here.

“Hey, relax,” Noctis’ voice finally cuts through his panic. The hand on his wrist has travelled up to his elbow, a welcome anchor. “Just think of him as my dad. This isn’t even a formal dinner, we’re eating in a private room by the kitchen. And he’s actually wanted to meet you for a while now, but it was just hard getting you two in the same place.”

Prompto gulps, tries to take those words as the comfort they’re meant to be and not the implication that the King has _expectations_ of him. He nods, letting Noctis pull him forward until they’re walking again.

“He knows why you’re here, too, so he’ll get why you look like shit.”

“So I _do_ look like shit!” Prompto whines, tugging a bit on the arm that Noctis is dragging him by.

Noctis laughs, loud and bright, and Prompto realizes that he’s _excited._

When they’d first met, he remembered Noctis had a difficult relationship with his father, through no fault of either of their own. Noctis was young and anxious for the future, and his father was getting older and weaker from fighting in an increasingly difficult war. But at some point, Prompto wasn’t sure when or why, things had changed for the better. Noctis started calling his father ‘dad’ again, started stepping out to call him during the week, started spending weekends at the Citadel. Prompto was happy for him, if just a little jealous. His own relationship with his parents was never so tumultuous or harmonious, just ambiguous in the loneliest kind of way.

And now he’s a little guilty again, for sitting in on what had to be precious time for Noctis, a rare moment of privacy to spend with his family. Even if the King wanted to see Prompto, was it really right for him to be here?

But as if sensing his guilt, Noctis tugs on his arm again, pulling him up until they’re walking side by side.

“Stop thinking,” he says, pinching at the skin above Prompto’s elbow. “I was _kidding._ You don’t look so bad, especially since you’re wearing my clothes. If you _really_ want to see ‘grossly underdressed in front of royalty,’ just take a look at Gladio. His shirt’s so tight you can practically see his _nipples.”_

_“Watch it,_ brat,” Gladio growls, but Prompto is already laughing so hard they have to stop and wait for him to finish coughing up a lung.

***

The three of them arrive before Noctis’ father as the staff are still putting the finishing touches on the silverware at the table. That makes Prompto a little nervous, because this is supposedly a casual dinner, but the porcelain and table setting scream ‘high society.’ Noctis notices his discomfort immediately and moves his own setting from the middle of the table to directly beside Prompto’s before the King can arrive. Gladio makes an amused noise from where he’s taken post behind them.

When the King does arrive, Prompto stands up so quickly his head spins and the chair nearly falls over behind him. He hears Noctis snort next to him, but he doesn’t even try to look from where he’s bent himself into a bow.

“You must be Prompto,” he hears the King say in a gentle, amused voice. Before he can help himself, he stands up straight and stiff at being addressed. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Yes, sir! I-I mean, Your Majesty.”

“No need for such formalities,” King Regis says and smiles at him, something kind and regal all at once. Prompto almost relaxes, but the glint of the crown and the stern face of the man standing guard behind the King shake him back to an anxious reality. “Any friend of my son’s is a welcome guest. Now, let’s sit.”

Prompto does what he’s told immediately, dropping down into his seat and letting his eyes fall to his palms. Noctis snorts beside him again.

“Hey, dad,” he says, easily, as some staff come in from the kitchen with a cart of food.

“Evening, Noctis,” his father replies. Before he can say anything else, he gestures for the waitstaff to begin serving dinner.

Prompto is relieved to find that he’s been served something like a broth. It smells rich, but it seems like something he can eat without immediately getting punished by his stomach. Before relief can truly set in, however, he goes to grab a utensil and realizes with horror that there’s _three spoons._ He looks to Noctis, desperately, but Noctis just stares back at him, unmoved and already absentmindedly picking out the carrots from what appears to be a stew of some kind with a fork of his own.

So he sits, frozen, until he hears quiet grumbling behind him. He just barely manages to reel in his surprised squeak as Gladio looms above him and reaches over his shoulder. He tips Prompto’s still folded napkin into his lap and then gently shoves one spoon to the side with his finger. He then subtly flicks Noct’s elbow before bowing to the King with a curt, “Apologies, your Majesty,” and returning to his post.

When Prompto hazards a look across the table, he finds both the King and the man standing guard behind him watching him with an amused kind of sympathy. He feels a flush creep up his neck and tries to reassure himself with the fact that he can pass it off as a symptom of his fever.

“How was school for the both of you?” the King finally says.

“Prompto didn’t go today,” Noct says, and Prompto’s flush makes it all the way to his ears. To have his first impression be as both a mannerless commoner _and_ a truant is too much to bear. Noct gives him a look that’s both apologetic and entertained. “Ignis called him in sick this morning.”

“Ah, yes. I’m sorry I'd forgotten about your fever. The healer gave me a short report on your progress this morning. She also let me know that _you_ were due for a visit, Noctis,” the King has an almost teasing quality to his voice and Noctis grumbles beside him. Clearly, even princes weren’t free from the nagging of a doctor. “Now, I don’t mean to put you on the spot Prompto, but she _did_ inform me that you hadn’t been vaccinated. Is it still very difficult to access clinics where you live?”

“N-no, not at all, sir!” Prompto stutters out. “It’s really my fault! There are plenty of free clinics that do vaccinations in my area, th-thanks to you! And I was vaccinated before, i-it’s just that I’m not the best with remembering things and all, so I always put it off until it’s too late. Plus, I’m bad with needles, so, totally my fault. S-sir!”

“There’s no need to blame yourself so thoroughly, Prompto,” the King gives him an accommodating smile. “The sick needn’t feel responsible for their condition, they need only to focus on recovering. And I apologize for prying, though I am glad to hear that your assessment, as someone in use of the facilities in question, is a relatively positive one.”

“It’s not a problem, Your Majesty,” he nods, noting with horror that the heat rushing to his face is now strong enough to fog up his glasses. He hastily pulls them off, but Noct’s quiet laughter is indication enough that he’s already noticed it.

“Now then, my son has had enough fun at your expense. Let’s see if we can return the favor,” the King says, a glint in his eyes, and now it’s Noctis’ turn to tense. “I have heard from the young Lady Amicitia that you’ve been looking after my son at your shared workplace. I’m curious to see how he’s been faring, since he’s been very scant on the details himself.”

_“Dad,”_ Noctis whines, genuinely whines, and a mischievous look that reminds Prompto of Noctis crosses King Regis’ expression. And just like that it’s a little bit easier to think of King Regis as Noctis’ dad instead of the leader of their nation.

His voice is a little clearer when he starts one of his many stories with a nervous grin, “Well, just the other day, sir-”

***

Dinner with Noct’s dad doesn’t end up lasting very long. He’s still the King, after all, and he has to leave them fairly early to attend to some urgent matters, but he’s sure to thank Prompto for his company and reassure him that he would see about expediting Prompto’s clearance to visit the Citadel with Noctis.

“That means he likes you,” Noctis explains in the car as Ignis drives them home. “Even though you betrayed me twice in two days. What happens at work is _sensitive information,_ Prompto.”

“You deserved it that second time,” Gladio says from the front seat. “Letting your own friend keep running himself under the table like that.”

“Yeah, man,” Prompto nods. “Very uncool.”

Noctis laughs, apparently still enjoying the memory of Prompto _dying_ at dinner, “Sorry, dude. You were just _so red.”_

“He can’t have been more red than you were yesterday, your highness,” Ignis chimes in. “Or have you forgotten the little fit you threw when Prompto here -”

Noctis kicks the back of Ignis’ seat, blushing, and Ignis "accidentally" taps the brakes in retaliation.

***

They spend the rest of the car ride in easy conversation, though Ignis interrupts a few times to make sure Prompto knows how to take care of himself, apparently unconvinced after his little fainting spell. Noctis checks his temperature with his cold, cold hands once more before they drop him off outside his apartment.

His parents aren’t home, which isn’t surprising, but it’s still lonely. He almost wants to step back outside, ask Noctis if he can hang out with all of them for just a little longer, but even if he was brave enough (selfish enough) to do that, he knows Ignis would just turn him back with a scolding to get more rest. There’s a weird weight in his gut that remains, though, even as he’s lying in bed moments from sleep and thinking back on how warm it felt in Ignis’ car on the ride home, on how foreign and nice it had felt being fussed over, how he felt almost _important_ to someone.

He realizes, in the drowsy haze just before sleep takes him, that for the first time he feels ok with wanting something, for the first time he doesn't feel guilty for his selfish wishes.

For the first time, he thinks he feels homesick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for that Angst Lite at the end, but don’t you worry it’s all aboard good time train next chapter. Also I didn’t have any particular style in mind for Prompto’s new glasses so just imagine whatever u think he looks the cutest in. they never really explained why he has no glasses after brotherhood?? but i'm guessing he's got them old people farsighted eyes like me. also i will 100% die for Good Dad Regis y’all he did his best ok
> 
> as always, let me know how your time on the Good Time train with a comment or give me a lil yell on my [tumblr](http://brosura.tumblr.com/)
> 
> next time on the adventures of reluctant gold digger prompto and his rich best friend: open bar at all events. (the chapter i tagged the drinking for)


	3. an open bar for all events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back again and sorry this chapter took so long!
> 
> anyway there is a warning for alcohol consumption (potentially underage, depending on ur region) as well as mentions of underage drinking in this chapter in case the title didn’t give it away. also, the True Shippy stuff is going to be after the last break (***) if ya still here for that gen Good Time train. 
> 
> final thing before we scoot along, thanks to all of y'all who kudo'd and commented, and a very special thanks to cara, my beta for this chapter! check her out on [tumblr](http://queen-tabris.tumblr.com/) or [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xieme)!
> 
> and that’s it! as always, enjoy your time on the Good Time train!

“What’s it like being drunk?” Prompto asks, sitting at the kitchen counter across from Ignis as Gladio pulls a beer from the fridge. Noct’s showering before dinner after his training session, and Prompto is waiting with Gladio and Ignis in the common area in the meanwhile, talking up whoever will respond to him at any given moment.

He’s been making himself a more permanent fixture in Noct’s life recently, perhaps a bit selfishly, but they’re in their last year of high school and approaching graduation fast. Prompto wants to feel like he belongs in this world for as long as he can, even if it’s only for the memories he’ll be able to cherish once it’s over. He stays over more often - the couch in Noct’s living room was replaced with a futon at some point - and sees more of Ignis and Gladio than he imagined he would when he was a nervous fifteen year old meeting the scary older friends of the prince.

Which means he’s exposed to a lot of things most teens his age wouldn’t be, on account of the fact that his (less scary) older friends are both older and friends of _the prince._ This has been useful, like when Ignis could pull his noble lineage to act as Prompto’s legal guardian if, say, Prompto was unable to contact his parents to sign a release for a field trip he forgot about until the last minute (in his defense, Noctis had forgotten, too), and informative, like almost everything else Ignis does. Today, Prompto’s hoping Gladio will give him a peek into the mysterious world of alcohol consumption.

Gladio, though, just raises an eyebrow at him and pulls another beer from the fridge, handing the bottle to Prompto. “Here. Future reference: if you want a beer, just ask. You don’t gotta dance around it like that.”

Ignis looks on with mild disapproval, but doesn’t say anything from where he’s prepping dinner. Prompto’s not concerned, though, because getting alcohol was never his intent.

“No, I’m good,” he says, holding up a hand to the offered beer. “I just want to know what it’s like, y’know, for when _I’m_ eighteen.”

“You’re not gonna drink until you’re eighteen?” Gladio raises an eyebrow at him again, but moves to put the second beer away.

“Yup!” Prompto nods, cheerfully. “I’m saving my first drink, wanna buy it for myself and all.”

Gladio snorts. “Don’t know why you’re making it such a big deal. First drinks aren’t like first times. Hell, they aren’t even like first kisses. I don’t even _remember_ my first drink.”

“Well, I can remember it for you, since you couldn’t remember even if you tried,” Ignis says, with a knowing smirk that makes Gladio grumble.

Prompto perks up at the reveal, but Gladio gives him a sharp glare that’s just a notch below ‘drop it or I’ll drop you,’ but communicates the same message. Ignis humors Prompto, though, and he gets a carefully edited retelling of Gladio’s eighteenth birthday. All he really learns, though, is that Ignis apparently had to pick Gladio up from a Crownsguard party at four in the morning and there were things that happened that were never to be spoken of again. There are glaring gaps and Prompto never does get his initial question answered in any certain terms, but it’s still nice to hear, nice to feel a part of something until Noctis comes back and whines about the vegetables he can see Ignis putting in his dinner.

***

Noctis turns eighteen before Prompto. There’s _always_ been a few months where Noctis was a number older than Prompto, but it just never really mattered until Noctis was old enough to drink and Prompto wasn’t.

“What was it like?” he asks, picking at his slice of cake while Noctis hacked up a few monsters in the video game Prompto bought him. “You drank at the party right?”

Prompto had long gotten used to the fact that he would never be able to celebrate Noctis’ birthday with him on the actual day. Noctis is a prince, after all, and when princes have birthdays, _everyone_ celebrates. Meaning news reports, interviews, distinguished foreign visitors and _balls_ (Prompto couldn’t _not_ laugh when Noctis said it) that even Ignis and Noct’s combined efforts couldn’t get Prompto into.

Prompto doesn’t really care, though. He never did. He’s just happy to spend the next day hanging out with Noct, eating the leftover cake and getting an after the fact play by play. It’s fun, hearing the stories, even if Noctis always seemed bothered that there was a part of his life Prompto couldn’t be a part of. But he’s always sure to let Noct know that it wasn’t something that he expected. He’s realistic about what it means to be a commoner and the prince’s friend, just like he’s realistic when it comes to spending and saving money so he can get his own place before he turns twenty four, and the fact that when he turns eighteen himself, he’s more likely to collapse under the pressure of the new responsibilities and privileges of adulthood than to grow into them.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t fantasize about the future before he gets to it, even though Noctis is clearly less mystified about the whole ordeal.

“You know, I can just _buy_ you alcohol,” Noctis says, flatly, but he seems pleased by the idea of being old enough to do so, as disinterested as he tries to act. “I’ll even let you pay me back and everything.”

“Nah, dude, it’s cool,” is Prompto’s automatic response. He’s used to the offers by now; Gladio is still unconvinced after all this time that Prompto isn’t just being coy about wanting a beer. “I just want to know, you know?”

“You could have asked me earlier. You _do_ know I’ve been getting passed champagne under the table at these things since before I even met you, right?” Noctis spares him an amused glance as his game character mows through hordes of low level monsters.

“Yeah, but it’s the first time you’ve been old enough to drink _above_ the table. Did it feel any different?”

“Not really,” Noct huffs out something like a laugh. “Think Ignis is still figuring out how he feels about the fact that I don’t need him to sneak me drinks anymore, though. And what’s with you and alcohol? You’re less than two months away now, it’s not that big a deal if you skip ahead.”

“It’s a big deal to me,” Prompto pouts. It’s a weird thing to be stubborn about, when most teens his age would love having friends that could get them booze, but it’s something that he’s held onto for all these years. “I’ve just always had this idea of what it’d be like to turn eighteen, y’know? Especially since I never thought -” Prompto cuts himself off, realizing he’d almost admitted something kind of pitiful out loud. “Um, you know what, nevermind.”

“Hey,” Noct says, his eyes are focused on the screen but voice is soft and reassuring. “C’mon don’t leave me hanging, never thought what?”

“I don’t know,” Prompto starts, voice halting and quiet. He’s always had this ideal for his eighteenth, it’s rooted itself far enough in Prompto’s imagination that he can’t separate himself from it even though it’s a half-baked daydream he’d cooked up when he was a lonely fourteen year old watching television shows, where everyone was glamorous and no one was friendless. Sure, he's excited now that it’s a possibility, but it’s hard to admit that it’s _still_ something born from that lonely part of his life. “I-I guess I just never thought I’d have anyone to celebrate it with.”

It’s quiet for a moment, the only sounds are the tinny clang of a sword and garbled wails from the video game, then Noctis suddenly reaches over and pinches him.

“Ow! What the hell, dude?!” Prompto yelps, scrambling to the other end of the couch. “What was that for?”

“For being stupid,” Noct says, but there’s nothing mean in his tone. If anything, it's almost gentle. “So, what do you want to do?”

“What?”

“For your birthday,” Noct gives him a flat look. “What do you want to do?”

“O-oh, um,” Prompto stutters, dumbstruck. “I don’t know?”

“No _way_ you don’t know. You get starry-eyed whenever Gladio opens a beer, so there’s gotta be alcohol in there somewhere,” Noctis teases, eyes focused on the video game. “What else? And don’t say cake. You know with Iggy that’s a given.”

“I guess…” he trails off, pulling himself out of his surprise for long enough to piece together bits of the fantasy he’s held onto for all these years. “I guess I’ve always imagined going to a club?”

“You? In a club?” Noct snorts and raises an eyebrow at him. “You do know there’s _dancing_ at clubs, right?”

“Hey! I’ve got moves!” Noctis just snorts again and Prompto takes a swing at him. “I do! Besides, I just wanna know what it’s like. I mean, all the songs talk about getting drunk in a club. It just seems like the thing to do, you know? If I like it, cool. If I don’t, well, at least there’s music.”

“So, booze and clubbing? Anything else?” Prompto shakes his head. “Well then, sounds like a plan.”

“Wait,” Prompto says, not letting himself get caught up in excitement just yet. “Isn’t clubbing, like, bad PR for you or something? I mean, you’re still the prince, dude, not to mention Ignis would murder me if anything happened to your reputation. Actually murder me. _Actual murder.”_

“Hey, you’ve survived this long, haven’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing.” Noctis smirks.

“Still though.” Prompto’s unconvinced that this can really be happening. “It’s gotta be against the rules or something for you to just party with commoners.”

“It probably is,” Noctis says, thoughtful. “But don’t worry. We’ve got two months, I’ll take care of it.”

***

Apparently, “taking care of it” meant that Noctis had to seek a formal audience with the King and the Lucian Council of Elders in order to request permission to _basically_ party.

It’s apparently a completely normal thing, since even though Noctis is now an adult in at least the legal sense of the word, he still has to defer to the judgement of the council for almost anything that wasn’t base level personal care. Something about the accountability of royalty and all that. But the whole idea of Noctis just dropping in on the ruling body of an entire country to ask if he could club with his commoner pal was almost too ridiculous to believe if Prompto hadn’t seen firsthand the gradual decrease in Noct’s overt rebellious behavior as the years went on. He finds out that even the impromptu dinner he’d had with the King while he’d been sick had been a contributing factor, since King Regis ended up being a key advocate in Prompto’s favor against a bunch of _“old geezers who don’t know what they’re talking about.”_

Either way, the decision was finally made that Noctis would get to act his age just this once so long as he was careful about his public image.

Noctis relays this information to a dumbstruck Prompto after the fact while they’re hanging out in Noct’s apartment after Prompto’s night classes. He’s half touched Noct would do that for him, half mortified that Noct would _do that_ for him, but this conflict settles itself on _completely mortified_ as Noctis presents him with a list of press-free nightclubs with established client privacy agreements to choose from.

Mortified, because Ignis _definitely_ put this together. Ignis definitely sat down, went through a list of local clubs, probably contacted all the owners, weighed the cost/benefits of each option and put together a list - again, of _nightclubs_ \- for Prompto’s consideration.

“So, you gonna make a decision sometime this century, or are you just gonna keep staring at it?” Noct teases, spread out on the futon and playing King’s Knight as Prompto gapes at the list.

“U-um,” Prompto jolts, scrolling quickly through it on the tablet in his hands. The pictures he sees all show him a glamorous world that makes him both excited and anxious: well-kept establishments with lights and walls of alcohol. He notes that all the prices have been conveniently left out. “I don’t know, these seem pretty high society.”

“Weird concern for a guy who’s been sleeping in the prince’s living room,” Noctis says, flatly. “Think of it this way: you said you wanted to club like in the songs, right? Do you honestly think celebs party in just any regular nightclub?”

“I guess not,” Prompto trails off, going back through the list with intent this time.

There are a few that are definitely _too wild,_ dance floors big and fitted with things that seem too _risque_ for Prompto to be ok with his first day at eighteen. Maybe someday in the future he’d feel confident enough to party somewhere with _cage dancing,_ but that day’s not any time soon.

He ends up settling on a club that’s considerably tamer than the others, and Prompto wonders if he just wanted to go to a regular bar all along. The place is fitted with a large, central bar that seems well-staffed, if the pictures are anything to go by. It has a few booths and floor tables and a dance floor that’s just spacious enough that it’ll be lively if Prompto’s feeling game, but small enough that it’s clearly not the only thing that draws people to the club. It’s just a bit homier than the other options, if still screaming high society, and Prompto thinks that’s good for a first night.

“Classy,” Noctis says, eyebrows raised as Prompto points it out to him. “Iggy’ll be happy, but Gladio was kinda hoping you’d pick one with more go-go dancers.”

“Wait, they’re _coming?”_ Prompto squeaks, an excited grin forming on his lips before he can help himself. “W-well, I guess it makes sense you being the prince and all.”

“Well, yeah _that,”_ Noctis smirks, punching his arm lightly. “But they’re coming for _you,_ too. Like hell Gladio’s gonna miss your first time getting drunk, after all the times you’ve pestered him about booze.”

The realization dawns that now basically _all_ of his friends will be present to witness whatever disaster his first experience with alcohol will be, and that whatever happens on his birthday will be remembered and used to tease him endlessly, but Prompto can’t bring himself to care.

“Oh man,” he says, but he’s still grinning. “I’m gonna get crap about this night for years, aren’t I?”

Noct gives him a grin back. “Until the day you die.”

***

Prompto is buzzing with a cocktail of anxiety and excitement on the day.

The owner of the liquor store across the street from the Crown Rail stop closest to Noct’s apartment stares at his ID for a moment longer than Prompto thinks is normal, probably unconvinced that he’s old enough to be buying alcohol with how jittery he’s acting. But he’s old enough, he’s _finally_ old enough, and the cashier says nothing else as he rings up the bottle of brown liquor with the label that all the pop songs sang about.

He’s come straight from work at Noct’s request, so he’s still wearing his day clothes. Noctis is letting him borrow some clothes for tonight, but that doesn’t stop Prompto from feeling very trashy in this moment, wearing his college sweater and jeans and carrying a brown paper bag that’s clearly for alcohol as he waits for Noctis to buzz him in. He takes the stairs to work off his nerves and avoid having to face any of Noctis’ neighbors, so he’s slightly out of breath when he makes it to Noctis’ front door.

“Hey,” Noctis greets, eyebrow raised and an amused smirk on his lips as he watches Prompto struggle for breath on his doorstep. “You need a moment or something?”

“Nah, I’m cool. Took the stairs,” Prompto pants out, then flourishes the bottle in his hand as he enters the apartment. “Look what I got!”

“Oh man,” Noctis grimaces as he turns the bottle around in his hands. “Gladio’s gonna have a _great_ time.”

Prompto grins, then realizes that the Shield in question isn’t actually there. Ignis is surprisingly absent as well. “Speaking of which, where _is_ the big guy?”

“Coming in a bit,” Noct says evenly, but his body language is suddenly tenser than usual. Prompto’s on edge before he can help himself. “Ignis, too. I actually just wanted you to come early so I could give you your present, y’know, before Gladio got here and made you drink until you forgot.”

“O-oh,” Prompto stutters, unsure if he’s more nervous about what’s making Noctis nervous or the fact that Gladio is apparently primed and ready to murder his liver.

“S-so yeah, just give me a minute,” Noctis says, awkward all of a sudden. Prompto doesn’t have time to do anything but stand anxiously where Noctis left him before he’s back again, handing Prompto a large paper bag stiffly. “Happy birthday, then.”

“Th-thanks,” Prompto stutters, wincing at how ungrateful he sounds. “Soooo, you want me to open this now? Wait! Course you do, you just said! O-ok, just -”

He cuts himself off, grimacing, and focuses on the bag in his hand. It’s heavy and stapled at the top and he can guess whatever is inside isn’t wrapped, which means it didn’t pass through Ignis first. He’s a mix of curious and excited as he drops onto Noct’s futon to carefully open it. It turns out to be a good thing that he sat himself down first, because he’s not sure how he’d be able to stay standing now that he can see what’s in the bag.

It’s a camera. Not just _a_ camera. _The_ camera.

The one he’d been saving up for this whole time. The one he’d all but given up on ever since college turned out to be a bigger investment than he’d expected. The one he’d been borrowing from work just to fantasize, just for a moment, before he’d return it and look for more economic options.

“Noct,” he breathes, pulling the box out of the bag gingerly. Another peek reveals a whole set of boxes for filters and extra lenses.

“I was going to give it to you earlier,” Noct says, when Prompto can’t bring himself to say anything else. “But you kept changing which one you wanted, and it took a while to save up for everything, since I kept having to drop shifts for Crown stuff. By the time I had the cash, it was too late for your birthday last year, so I just waited in case you changed your mind again or something.”

“Dude,” Prompto says. He gets the feeling that Noct would have gone one talking if he didn’t say anything. “You used your _paychecks_ to buy this for me?”

“It’s not like I gotta pay rent or anything,” Noct shrugs, a little pinker than he was before. “And you always get this look when I spend Crown funds on you - even though literally no one cares - so I figured if I wanted to get you a bigger present, you’d like it better if it was _my_ money. Don’t tell me you _don’t_ like it? I was so sure -”

“No, I do!” Prompto says, quickly, because he’s sure of that at least. “I really do!”

“Cool,” Noct says, tone indifferent, but he visibly relaxes and settles himself down on the futon next to Prompto. “You can leave it here, since we’re going out.”

“Of _course_ I’m leaving it here,” Prompto wheezes. “I wouldn’t bring something like this _out_ while I’m _drunk.”_

Noctis snorts, and suddenly everything is normal again. He gestures to the console, where the game Prompto bought him is still loaded. “Wanna play a campaign before Ignis and Gladio show up?”

“I mean, normally I’d take you up on it,” Prompto says. “But then I’d have to face how shitty the present I got you is compared to the one you got for me.”

“Hey,” Noctis says, frowning. _“Don’t._ You got me what I wanted, and I got you what you wanted. That’s _it.”_

“Got it,” he says, letting himself believe that just for today. It’s his birthday after all, he can be selfish if he wants to be. “But seriously, dude. Thanks. Really, _thank you.”_

“Not a problem,” Noctis smiles, something soft and fond and different from all the ones Prompto has seen before. “Anyways, your taxpayer dollars keep me fed, so just consider it a return on investment if you’re ever feeling bad.”

“I thought Ignis kept you fed.”

“Same difference.”

***

Ignis shows up and heckles them into eating something not long after that.

They’re finishing up some pasta when Noctis asks Ignis if he can do Prompto’s hair. Ignis raises an eyebrow at the request, but concedes nonetheless, and it’s not long after they’ve cleaned up and changed into their clothes for the night that he’s sitting in front of Ignis in the bathroom.

“No cake this time, Ignis?” Prompto teases to make the ordeal less awkward, but he’s actually pretty serious. When Noctis turned sixteen, Prompto learned the privilege that was receiving an Ignis-made birthday cake and he’s been secretly hoping to eat one every birthday since.

“I have one in the making,” Ignis says, working a brush through Prompto’s hair. “Given the activities you’ll be getting up to tonight, however, I’d prefer if you enjoyed it at a time when you aren’t liable to lose it in two to three hours depending on how well you can hold your liquor. I made that mistake when Gladio turned eighteen, and I’d prefer not to make it again.”

“Makes sense,” Prompto says. He already knows better than to ask more about Gladio’s mysterious eighteenth birthday. “Do you have, like, a little birthday dessert, though?”

Ignis huffs a laugh, opening a jar of Noctis’ hair gel and appraising Prompto’s flat hair one more time. “There are a couple of pastries in the fridge I think you wouldn’t mind losing if worse comes to worst, I’m sure Noct has given you his leftovers plenty of times.”

“Oh, I love those little things!” Prompto perks up. “Did he say you got it down yet?”

“‘Too sweet,’ he says, and I have to say I agree with him this time. That being said, I’m glad to know someone appreciates them as they are. Now, it’d be helpful if you stayed still.”

“S-sorry,” Prompto squeaks, and goes rigid.

Ignis looks amused, but works at his hair anyway. It’s awkward to watch himself getting his hair done in the mirror, so he looks at his phone while Ignis does his thing until he hears a whistle from the door.

“Nice,” Noctis says, grinning at him in the mirror while he’s running gel through his own hair until it’s spiking up near the back.

Prompto hazards a look at himself and _shit,_ does he look cool. Ignis is _magical._ He must have said that out loud before he could stop himself, because Ignis just snorts.

“Given that I’ve been training with the Crystal's blessing, I’d certainly hope I was a little magical.”

***

Gladio shows up not long after. He gives Prompto a slap on the back and opens him a beer from the fridge.

“Here, now you’re _finally_ old enough,” he says, smirking.

Prompto takes it with a grin of his own, but then he remembers the bottle he’d bought earlier that day. “Wait! I want to drink mine first.”

He grabs it off the counter. Gladio takes a glance at the label and gives him a look that’s part amusement and part surprise.

_“Shit,_ ok,” he says. “You don’t fuck around. Give me a second.”

Ignis takes the bottle from Gladio as Noct’s Shield goes through the cupboards and grimaces as he reads the label.

“Something wrong, Iggy?” he asks.

“Just some Gladio-related bad memories,” Ignis says, giving the man in question a pointed look as he sets two cups in front of Prompto and Noctis, one filled with soda, and one small cup in front of himself.   

“Ok, so birthday boy,” Gladio cuts in. “Pay attention now. The shit you bought is stronger than beer, but it also hurts going down. So you’re gonna want to chase with the soda until you’re used to it. Basically, take a sip of soda, take the shot, take another sip of soda. Try not to cough anything up.”

“But _you_ don’t have soda?”

“I’m a badass,” Gladio says, flatly.

Noctis grumbles to his left, but Prompto is more focused on the sharp smell coming from his cup. Before he can stop himself, he’s holding both cups in his hands, practically jumping with excitement.

“Now then,” Ignis says, amused. “A toast to the birthday boy?”

They all say a quick cheers, since Prompto is too excited for speeches, and clink their glasses together. Then Prompto goes for it, soda then the shot then soda just like Gladio said. Even though he’s braced himself for it, it’s still surprising how much it _stings_ on the way down.

“Ugh, that’s _gross!”_ Prompto grimaces, fighting the cough as he feels the liquor crawl down his throat and settle hot in his gut. “Why didn’t anyone tell me alcohol was gross this whole time?”

“Didn’t want to ruin your little fantasy,” Gladio says with a grin, setting down his own glass. Prompto can see that he didn’t chase, but he’s not even flinching. _Badass._

Noct sets down his shot glass hard next to his untouched soda and opens his mouth, a smirk on his lips like he’s going to tease Prompto too, but then he starts coughing loudly.

“Look who’s trying to act like a badass all of a sudden,” Gladio says, but he’s patting Noct’s back to help him along anyway. “Ain’t no shame in chasing the hard shit when you need to, princess.”  

“Shut _up,”_ Noctis croaks, but Prompto just laughs.

And he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or how _surreal_ this whole thing is - being here with his friends for his first drink is almost like a dream - but he can’t _stop_ laughing.

“Oh man,” Gladio says, grin vicious as Prompto continues to giggle behind his fist. “Tonight’s gonna be _fun.”_

***

They arrive at the club closer to midnight than they planned. Gladio successfully bullied Noctis and Prompto into drinking about half of the bottle that Prompto bought and Prompto had managed to finish a beer by the time Ignis herded them out of the door.

Prompto’s suitably buzzed by the time they reach the club, so it’s easy for Noctis to distract him while Ignis pays the cover fee to the bouncer, which is all well and good because it probably costs as much as Prompto’s old camera. But Prompto’s fine with it this time, since the reason they were at such a high end place was so that the prince could party in a place with the necessary level of discretion. Plus everything’s just a bit fuzzier around the edges: time is passing a little faster and things are happening around him in an almost distant way, and he’s leaning hard on Noctis to stay grounded. It’s only thanks to Ignis that he manages to put his ID away and not lose it at the entrance.

One step in and Prompto immediately realizes that the dancing thing is _not_ happening. Everyone at the club is discouragingly beautiful - literally _everyone,_ Prompto notes with dismay - and so far out of his league Prompto might as well not even be playing the same game. Prompto’s sure without the meager confidence boost his slick new hairdo and flattering, prince-approved outfit granted him, he would barely be able to step through the club’s threshold. Noctis always had an uncanny way of predicting when he’d feel insecure, though, and in addition to getting Ignis to do his hair and lending him clothes, he’s reserved them a booth near the back, so Prompto feels relatively safe and protected from prying eyes until he drinks enough to not care anymore.

He’s probably almost to that level already, practically bouncing in his seat to the heavy thump of the bass, but Noctis isn’t any better. The prince flops heavily into the booth, throws down a wad of cash from his pocket and nods to Gladio in a gesture that looks _so cool_ that Prompto’s laugh is definitely awestruck.

“Go wild,” is all Noctis says, barely flinching when Gladio flicks him in the arm and takes the cash to the bar.

Prompto barely has time to blink before Gladio’s back, with more alcohol than Prompto imagined he’d be drinking at the club and says, simply, “Round one’s here, boys.”

Somehow, the three of them drink all of it within the hour (Ignis is playing the role of designated driver with practiced grace, sipping idly at his single beer with an amused look). Round one becomes round two becomes round three. He’s sure he’ll hate Gladio tomorrow, but right now whenever he comes back to their table, puts something new in Prompto’s hands and suggests they play a new drinking game that’s more drinking than game, he can only laugh wildly and accept. A look to his side lets him know Noct isn’t doing any better, but he’s still looking way cooler than Prompto could ever hope to, lounging casually as he takes a sip from the beer in his hand.

They tell stories and swap dares, Prompto gets a bunch of blackmail from Noct’s early childhood and they all hear the ridiculous things he and Noctis would get up to at work or in high school. Prompto doesn’t remember laughing this much or this loud in a public place in a long time.

He’s teetering on the edge between very buzzed and completely gone when he finally gives in and gets up to pee. He passes by the bar on his way back, thinking about ordering something for himself, but the bartender brings him a shot of something strong smelling and a small cup of soda before he can ask. When Prompto tries to tell him that he didn’t order, the man just gives him a grin and jerks a finger at the booth where Noctis and the others are still sitting. “Your friend said the tab’s on him and also - and I quote - ‘Pour the best shit for my best guy.’”

Prompto glances back at the table to find Noctis in the middle of laughing at some joke that Gladio must have told, expression light and openly joyful, and some switch flips inside him. He swallows hard, tips back the shot - feeling it burn its way to his gut and send him careening into full, reveling drunkenness - and learns two things about himself.

First, that he’s no lightweight.

Maybe not a heavyweight either, but solidly in the middle, since he’s kept up with Gladio this far, drank everything that was handed to him here and in Noct’s apartment, and he will be able to perfectly remember how it felt hearing that Noct had called him his ‘best guy’ the next day. It’s a warmth and giddiness that follows him back to their table, where he quickly learns the second thing about himself.

Which is that, specifically, he is a touchy and emotional drunk.

That is how he finds himself practically in Noct’s lap, arms wrapped around him and crying openly into his neck. He’s saying words between the sobs, things about how grateful he is that Noct is his friend, that Noct gave him the time of day, that Noct would _pay for his alcohol._ He’s conscious enough to know what he’s saying, but he’s long past feeling embarrassed about it even as he hears Gladio guffaw from somewhere over Noct’s shoulder. And Noctis is unusually reciprocal in his drunken state, murmuring softly and running warm and soothing hands up and down Prompto’s back. It almost makes him relaxed enough to just give up and fall asleep, but Prompto’s not done yet.

He’s warm, already crying and he feels _a lot_. A lot of things he has always wanted to say, but felt too shy or too embarrassed to put into words. So when Noctis untangles himself from Prompto to use the restroom, he immediately goes for Ignis.

“Ignis,” he remembers crying across the booth from Ignis. _Actually_ crying. “My hair looks _so cool,_ thank you so much!”

Ignis accepts his thanks with an amused smirk on his lips and patiently listens as Prompto lists off all the other things he’s grateful to Ignis for. He’s halfway through repeating all the foods that Ignis has cooked that he liked when Gladio and Noctis come back, and then it’s Gladio’s turn.

“I know y’could kill me with these,” he says, squeezing at Gladio’s bicep as the man patiently leads him to the bar for a cup of water. “But thank you for not killing me with these. I know you didn’t like me at first but death by muscles is not a good way to go. Even if you _are_ probably the most badass person I know.”

Gladio laughs, says something reassuring to him that he can only just make out over the thump of the bass, and gives him a cup of water that he drinks without question before he’s suddenly back at the booth.

And back to crying in Noctis’ lap.

“You have a nice laugh,” Prompto sobs into Noct’s neck.

“Then why’re you crying about it?” Noctis says, but Prompto is pressed up close enough that he can feel his laughter even if he can’t quite hear it.

“I don’t _know,”_ he sobs louder. “I’m just happy you’re laughing.”

“Well, of course,” Noctis huffs, hands coming up to settle on Prompto’s back. “You always make me laugh.”

Prompto makes an ugly choked noise, and he hears Noct chuckling quietly by his ear. The last thing Prompto remembers is Gladio handing him another shot with a wicked grin, which he somehow manages to drink even while his cheek is still pressed into Noct’s shoulder.

_Warm,_ he thinks, not sure if it’s about the drink or Noctis, and then nothing else.

***

He wakes up at home, blinking at the morning light streaming through his window.

It takes him a moment to untangle himself from his sheets, which are wrapped around him in a suspiciously intentional manner, and when he finally does wrench himself free he has to pause and breathe in the face of a wave of throbbing pain in his temple. _So this is what being hungover feels like,_ he thinks as the bitter taste of bile settles on his tongue.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to go far for a glass of water. There’s one on the nightstand next to his head. Beneath it is a piece of paper with a few hastily scrawled notes and a set of pills resting on top, circled with a pen and labeled “painkillers.’

_Didn’t want to drink these last night,_ the first note reads, written directly under the pills in Gladio’s hand. _Enjoy the headache dumbass._

_You kept turning onto your back, so we had to take precautions to ensure you didn’t kill yourself in your sleep. Apologies for any inconvenience in the morning from saving your life. Also, if you’re wondering why you’re at home, you can thank yourself. You’re quite the fast runner._ That’s Ignis, through and through. Prompto can just read the exasperation in his words. His phone is plugged into the charger, and he can guess that’s Ignis, too. Thank the Six for Ignis.

He’s a little embarrassed, but he’d expected _at least_ this level of shenanigans, and it’s honestly funnier imagining his friends - Gladio and Ignis especially, with their broad shoulders and height - cramming into his tiny room and trying to wrangle him into the recovery position.

He unlocks his phone and opens his gallery while he swallows the pills and drinks as much of the water as he can in one gulp. He notes with dismay that there are two hundred new photos. It’s actually not as bad as he thinks, a lot of them are duplicates and probably a result of him being too tap happy on the camera, and they’re all blurry to the point that he can barely recognize anything but his friend’s faces in each of them. Still, there’s a careless kind of energy in them, in his wildly cheerful expressions and the blurred grins of his friends. So he flips through them from start to finish over and over again until he gets a text from Noctis.

_R u alive?_ The text reads, but above it is another text that Prompto had missed when he'd unlocked his phone. It’s a picture: a blurry and frankly unflattering selfie of a grinning Noctis and a tightly wrapped bundle that he assumes is himself based on the blond hair poking out from the top, captioned _PROMPTORRITO._

Prompto snorts, and sends back, _No._

_K, guess I can eat this by myself then,_ comes the next text, with a picture of a cake, simply decorated but elegant all the same.

_Omw,_ he replies immediately. He considers showering and changing, but honestly, it’ll just be easier if he wears Noct’s clothes back to Noct’s apartment and showers there - he’s still got a set of clothes there, after all - so he just tries his best to ignore how rumpled he looks as he boards the Crown Rail.

Ignis is the one who lets him in, giving him a weird, knowing look when Prompto thanks him for getting him home. Prompto doesn’t have long to think about what that means before he sees Gladio and Noct sprawled out on the futon.

“Glad to see you’re still kicking, Prince Charmless here was _so_ worried,” Gladio teases as Prompto walks through the door, fiddling with his phone. He makes a quiet ‘oof’ as Noctis kicks him from where he’s lying.

“Hey,” Noctis says, sitting up to greet him. He blinks, squinting a bit at Prompto. “Do you want to shower before or after the cake?”

“Well, if you have things to do-”

“We don’t,” Gladio says.

“Shower before, then.”

His clothes from yesterday smell a bit stale, but Noct’s shower is hot and it feels nice to wash all the gel out of his hair. He feels more comfortable in his skin when he finally comes back, towel around his neck.

They don’t sing happy birthday or anything, just cut the cake and eat it while they laze around and joke about things that happened last night. They seem hesitant to share details with him when he mentions that he can’t remember bits and pieces of the night, but there are plenty of things he _does_ remember that are easy enough to tease him with. Prompto was right about them never letting him live this down, but he didn’t expect to feel this _happy_ about it.

Ignis lets him eat as much of the cake as he wants, Gladio opens him a beer before he can say no, and Noctis is warm and pressed against his side playing with the game Prompto bought him while Prompto fiddles with the camera. There’s something familiar and surreal all at once about it, something that feels like home. He commits the feelings to memory before he can forget, wants to keep this moment with him for as long as he can.

Better yet, he snaps a picture.

***

Ignis and Gladio leave sometime in the afternoon, Ignis on business and Gladio to hang out with his sister. There’s more room to sprawl out on the futon this way, and since it’s only the two of them they’ve started playing another campaign, comfortably back where they started less than twenty four hours ago. 

“Hey man,” Prompto says after some time, nudging Noctis. There’s something that’s been bothering him as most of last night comes back to him and there's still a period he can't remember at all. He figures Noctis might be more open to sharing now that Ignis and Gladio aren’t around. “I know you guys were being easy on me cause I cried a lot yesterday. Sorry if I got, like, super real.”

“Don’t worry about it,” is Noct’s quick response. He gives him a smug grin. “It was your birthday, you could cry if you wanted to.”

“And you think _I’m_ the nerd,” Prompto says, eyes narrowing. “Anyway, just wondering, but did I do anything else? I kind of forgot everything after I cried on your shoulder.”

Noctis pauses, actually _pauses the game,_ and blinks at him. He stares at Prompto, clearly trying to read something off his expression, and sighs when he doesn’t seem to find it.

“You really don’t remember? I thought you were joking” he says, tentatively. Prompto shakes his head. “You kissed me. On the mouth.”

“I _what_ you on the _what?!”_ Prompto sputters, stomach dropping. “Oh em gee, I am _so sorry_ dude!”

“It’s not a big deal,” Noct says, but he’s almost…sulking? “You’ve kissed me before.”

“On the _cheek!”_

“While you were _pretending to be my boyfriend.”_

“It’s still _different,”_ Prompto winces. “Oh man, Ignis totally saw didn’t he? He’s gonna _kill_ me, I just made it into ‘not a bad influence’ territory and now he’s going to think I’m just gold-digging.”

“What Ignis thinks doesn’t really matter,” Noctis is definitely sulking now. “And if he didn’t kill you before you made it in the door, you’re fine. Besides, I think he kind of...had an idea anyway.”

“An idea? Like, that I had a crush on you or something?”

“The other way around,” Noctis mumbles, looking more anxious than Prompto had ever seen him. He’s pale, not flushed, like he’s worried. Like he’s _scared._

And Prompto, for once, is far from it.

_Noctis has a crush on him._ It should feel like a major thing, if not because confessions were always made up to be some kind of life-changing event in all of the dramas he’d watched, then because Noctis was _the prince,_ and Noctis (the prince) had a crush on him.

But to Prompto, Noctis has always just been Noctis, and Prompto’s known from the beginning that he’d spend his entire life with Noctis if he could.

So it doesn’t feel any different, to flick the final switch. It doesn’t feel difficult to remember all the moments he’d spent with Noctis and rewatch them through a different, more romantic lens, though it admittedly helps that there was a period of time where they were holding hands regularly. And he thinks of Noctis laughing, how he’d told him “you always make me laugh,” and how Prompto knew in that moment that that’s what he wanted. To make him laugh, to be at his side, always.

_Which he wasn’t doing so well right now,_ since Noctis is still tense next to him, avoiding eye contact and looking like he’s deciding whether or not to cut and run.

But Prompto’s not nervous, and he’s here to stay.

“Ugh, I feel like a failure on so many levels,” he finally says, making sure his tone is obviously teasing. Noctis looks at him, finally, with confusion and curiosity. “Thousands of my fellow plebes out there, dreaming of marrying into royalty and comfort and here I am, _kissing the prince on mouth,_ and I don’t even remember it the next day.”

He gives Noctis a suggestive grin, wiggles his eyebrows a bit, and watches with relief as Noctis relaxes visibly. Noctis just shakes his head and huffs out the breath he’d been holding. He hums thoughtfully and stares at Prompto again, that same appraising look he’d gotten earlier, only this time he seems to find something he likes.

Then suddenly, Prompto’s got a face full of Noctis.

It’s not quite what Prompto expected from a first kiss - it’s a little wet and awkward, their noses bump and Noctis pulls away before Prompto can really process that he’s being kissed - but it’s so much like what he’d expected _from Noctis_ that he can’t help but laugh.

“Wow, the fairytales _really_ oversell the whole kissing a prince thing,” he grins as Noctis scowls. _“Very_ underwhelming.”

“Can’t believe I like someone who’s so _ungrateful,”_ Noctis grumbles, but he’s smiling.

“But you do!” Prompto teases even though he’s a little breathless and very giddy. “You like me! You _like_ -like me!”

“What are you, a middle schooler?” Noctis says, moving into Prompto’s space again.

“Awww, quit pouting, your highness. I like-like you, too!” Prompto lets his forehead bump against Noct’s with the last part, and he’s about to kiss Noct again - for real - when something crosses his mind. He pulls back abruptly, ignoring how cute Noct looks when he’s genuinely surprised and how easy it is for him to think of Noctis as cute. “Wait, is that what this whole thing was about? Paying for me and stuff? Were you _wooing_ me _this whole time?”_

“N-no!” Noctis stutters, red steadily creeping up his neck. “I wasn’t trying to w- _woo_ you at first. Whatever Ignis told you was probably right most of the time, I was just really happy that you wanted to be my friend. This, this _…crush thing_ is new. I don’t know, maybe two months or so? The camera, though. It was supposed to be... _that_ ...y’know, _wooing.”_

Noctis trails off. He’s so red it’s adorable, looking anywhere but at Prompto, and Prompto - who’s already giddy after the kiss - is _floored_ by even this small confession.

“Consider this guy wooed, buddy,” he says, grinning, and brings the camera up to snap another picture. Noctis winces at the sound of the shutter.

_“Delete it,”_ he says.

“Oh _no,_ suddenly I forgot how to camera.”

_“Prompto,”_ Noctis hisses, and swipes at him, but Prompto is already gone, his camera set carefully on the table as he runs to the door, slips on his shoes and books it out of the apartment.

He races down the stairs with Noctis in pursuit, laughter echoing the whole way down, and pauses on the last step to pull Noctis into another kiss before bolting out the front door. Noctis chases him as far as the Crow’s Nest downtown, where they settle down to have their first date until Ignis can come let Noctis back into his apartment, since the prince neglected to bring his keys (something that he’s sure to let Prompto know is _all his fault_ ).

They split the bill for the fries this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some story related things before the important information for the next chapter: the game prompto bought for noct’s birthday is hyrule warriors b/c i’ve had some good times with my friends w that game and the alcohol he bought is either hennessy or jack daniels i honestly can’t decide, they’re both very prevalent alcohols in pop culture and i hate them both. i don’t know enough about cameras to have a model for u srry fam
> 
> also, here’s a breakdown of what happened while prompto was blacked out b/c I don’t think I’ll write it ever:  
> 1) prompto kisses noctis in the club  
> 2) gladio and ignis r like omfg i knew it, but things go on as normal  
> 3) the club closes n ignis manages to get all his wasted friends to noct’s apartment (thanks to gladio, who has to carry prompto out of the club)  
> 4) gladio’s like wait ignis and i are gonna stay here so you two sloppy teens don’t do things u’ll regret  
> 5) prompto, sweet innocent child, is like ‘oh! if you’re staying there’s not enough room for everyone to sleep comfortably! that’s ok! i’ll go home!’  
> 6) then he’s just gone fam he’s BOOKIN IT he is toO FAST  
> 7) noctis is like ‘wait omg what if he dies out there we have to follow him!’  
> 8) ignis and gladio are like ok that is a valid concern  
> 9) they drive the entire route to prompto’s house and can’t find him and noctis is PANICKin!  
> 10) they do the logical thing and break into prompto’s house  
> 11) prompto is just passed out in his bed n ignis is just... pls if there is a god, i am only twenty and i’m not ready to be responsible for the life of another child
> 
> also like fam pls drink responsibly
> 
> as for the next chapter, i tried to make the two ending lines of the bits before and after the last break feel like endings in their own right b/c next chapter is not going to be as Good a Time as this and the last few so if you want the pure Good Time train experience only, you may want to miss out on the last chapter. but it’s not going to be straight up sad if you're as good at ignoring the future as me, just a little more somber compared to the last few chapters, and it will still have a lot of soft moments and a hopeful and positive outlook by the end. to give you a bit of an idea what i’m talking about, i am writing this as if it was pre-game, so the game events (i.e. the treaty with niflheim) are the framework i am working with and i’m uncomfortable writing out how important luna is to noctis
> 
> anyway, thanks for the read and please let me know how your time in the Good Time train was in the comments or give me a lil yell on [tumblr](http://brosura.tumblr.com/).
> 
> next time on the adventures of reluctant gold digger prompto argentum and his rich best friend: long-term job security with retirement options


	4. long-term job security with retirement options

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is! the end of the line!
> 
> some heads up: changed a few of the tags, but did not tag for a scene with prompto usin his guns (his arms n a real gun), MARSHAL COR LEONIS, THE IMMORTAL and some hints at Noct/Luna b/c i feel 4 Luna is she ok i know what happens to her in canon but _is she ok_
> 
> this chapter also has 100% more gladio (unfortunately less Ignis) and lore taken loosely from the parting ways script, which is free to read online but honestly the wikipedia summary is just fine if ur curious what happens in it. i would also like to briefly remind y'all that prompto's vest has a little patch that says "it's a beautiful day, now watch some bastard fuck it up" like the edgy college student he is and that's going to be tangentially relevant to this chapter
> 
> before we scoot along, i want to thank all of you for reading this far, with a special thanks to [cara](http://queen-tabris.tumblr.com/) for a last minute surprise beta read that i sprung on her with little to no warning
> 
> that's all! and i hope you enjoy this last run with the Good Time train!

“Give him a couple centimeters to grow on the ‘Glaive uniform,” Gladio says to the tailor. He’s standing off in the corner, going through his phone absentmindedly as Prompto suffers through one of the most awkward moments of his life. “I’ll make sure he’s got the muscle to fill it out by the time he’s gotta wear it.”

“Kinda ambitious, don’t ya think?” Prompto chuckles nervously and tries not to jolt when the cold measuring tape circles his bare thigh. "We've got, what? Two weeks?"

“Seen bigger miracles happen,” is all Gladio says.

Prompto is painfully aware that him just _being here_ is one of those miracles. He’s almost unprecedented where he is: a commoner assigned to the prince’s personal guard over soldiers and nobles, inexperienced yet hand-selected, and not a companion by the circumstances of war. If it weren’t for the treaty with Niflheim, Prompto’s sure all the buzz around the Citadel would be about him, and not in a good way.

Gladio led him to his uniform fitting specifically for this reason, and while Prompto’s aware he’s jittery and self-conscious, he knows he can’t be completely imagining the _looks_ he’s been getting from the people they passed along the way. The tailor is nice enough to not say anything about it, even though he seems unused to having to so thoroughly direct a client. Prompto knows that at least Noctis had to go in for fittings every few months or so, since he complained about it at least as often.

But Prompto has never worn anything that wasn’t someone else’s first in his _entire life._ This is a new and _uniquely uncomfortable_ experience in a series of new and uniquely uncomfortable experiences that began the moment Noctis had named him as part of his personal guard to Altissia.

He’d asked Prompto beforehand, of course. He’d asked Prompto _many_ times beforehand.

It's just that Prompto had thought of it as something theoretical and far-off until the treaty went public, they were a week away from leaving and he was getting kicked around a training room by someone from the Crownsguard.

He winces and sucks in a breath when the tailor’s jostling bumps a _fresh reminder_ of his crash course in defense from that morning and Gladio’s eyes flick up at the sound. While his face is impassive, he seems to sense Prompto’s discomfort.

“That’ll heal up quicker now that you’ve got a tap on the Crystal’s magic,” he nods to the yellowing bruise around Prompto’s ribs. “Means you’ll be fresh and ready for tomorrow.”

“Oh man, isn’t that just _the best,”_ Prompto grimaces.

“Welcome to the Crownsguard,” Gladio huffs as the tailor finishes the last measurement and gestures for Prompto to step off the pedestal. He gives Prompto a slip for record-keeping before leaving them.

“So I’ve been wondering,” Prompto starts, trying to fill the awkward silence that fell between them as he starts to pull on his clothes. “What’s the deal with the Kingsglaive uniform? Thought those guys were an outside the Wall thing.”

“In case you forgot, we’re heading _outside the Wall,”_ Gladio says, but he pauses as he goes through his phone and something in his tone sounds thoughtful, like it’s a concern he’s had himself. “You’re right that it’s a new thing, though. From what I’ve heard, the system’s shuffling around a bit, and it’s looking like the Kingsglaive is replacing the Crownsguard as the King’s protectors in peacetime. Wedding’s a symbol of that, so we’ll be Kingsglaive for the ceremony, at least.”

“Makes sense,” Prompto says, even though it only kinda did. The nuances of all the different organizations within the Lucian military and government structure still went over his head, even after all these years of seeing them in glimpses over Noct’s shoulder.  

“Either way,” Gladio stares squarely at Prompto, which would have been intimidating in normal circumstances and is absolutely _nerve-wracking_ now that Prompto’s only got half his shirt on. “Noctis chose you for his _personal_ guard. You got your answer for him yet?”

“I-I thought I said yeah?” Prompto tilts his head and hastily pulls his shirt the rest of the way on, remembering the vows of service he’d said in front of King Regis and Noctis, the feeling of the Crystal’s magic rushing through him. “I thought that’s what I was doing here?”

“You _thought?”_ Gladio frowns and it takes all his effort not to flinch. He’s clearly not successful, though, since Gladio’s frown softens and he sighs, pinching his brow. “Listen Prompto, you _do_ realize what he’s asking you, right? You say yes, you decide on that, and this gig isn’t a one time deal. You enter his personal guard, you stay there _for life._ That ain’t something you just 'say yeah' to on a whim, and it's not too late to back out. You get that?”

“I get it,” Prompto says, meeting Gladio’s eyes and trying his best to look as certain as he felt even in the face of Gladio’s scowl. “I do. I _want_ to be here.”

Gladio stares at him, long and searching, but Prompto’s pleased when he sighs with something like acceptance.

“Fine then,” he says in a low grumble. “Word of advice: you’ve got good instincts and you’re fast, but you’re inexperienced. You’re not going to pick up a traditional weapon in a few days. Just find a way to keep yourself from getting hit and you’ll be cleared for basic training. It’s only supposed to be for self-defense anyway.”

Prompto frowns. “I thought I was being trained for Noct’s guard?”

“You are, but you just worry about _yourself_ for now.” Gladio pokes him hard on his chest and Prompto’s a little humiliated to find that it’s enough for him to stumble back. “When we get back, that’s a different story. You've already got a week of intensive training, _at least.”_

“Man, I’m gonna work through a freezer of ice _daily_ if this is how it’s gonna be from here on out,” he whines, wincing as he goes to pull on his jacket. “Didn’t realize the Crownsguard grind meant a _nonstop beatdown_ from day one.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but Gladio doesn’t laugh. He just stares at him again, face impassive, as Prompto chuckles nervously to fill the silence.

Then he just mutters something under his breath and gives Prompto a (friendly?) shove forward. “Yeah, well you better get used to it quick. Before your first Crownsguard _Af_ _ter Party.”_

***

Prompto remembers meeting Gladio for the first time. He was big and intimidating despite the fact that he looked so out of place amongst the bright colors and cheerful sounds of the arcade. He remembers the frown he'd had, not deep, but deep enough to make Prompto’s heart stutter like he was doing something _profoundly wrong_ even though Noctis was the one who’d dragged him to the arcade in the first place.

This might just be _worse._

Cor Leonis is as menacing in real life as the reputation that precedes him.

“You’re the new recruit,” Cor says. His tone is neutral even though he’s wearing a deep frown, and it’s more terrifying than anything Prompto has ever experienced, and he’s seen Ignis _disappointed._

“Y-yes, sir! M-marshal, sir!” he stutters, wondering if he’s supposed to salute or bow down or _what._ He finally decides on standing at attention like the Crownsguard beside him, who had been slapping him around with a broadsword when the Marshal had walked in.

Cor gives his sparring partner a nod and the man bows before leaving Prompto alone to be swiftly murdered and buried in the pretty garden he’d passed on the way here. Well, probably not that. But it certainly _feels_ like that’s going to happen.

“Prompto Argentum,” Cor says and Prompto stiffens again. “I will be taking over your training on request of the prince.”

“O-oh, aren’t you, y’know, too busy?” Prompto says before he can help himself. The flush is immediate. “U-um, sir!”

“At ease,” Cor’s tone is almost amused, but Prompto doesn’t dare let himself relax completely. “I make an effort to train all new recruits, though not always this early. Truthfully, I accepted Prince Noctis’ request to investigate something Gladio told me.”

“Gladio-?”

“He suspected that they’ve been treating you harshly, and from what I’ve seen, I’m inclined to agree with him,” he says, eyeing the bruise that’s forming on Prompto’s cheekbone. There’s a hint of pity in his tone, and Prompto guesses this is the closest he’ll get to an apology.

Prompto frowns. Sure the past two guys have been rougher on him than he’d expected, but he thought that was a regular hazing thing. “N-not to be rude, sir, but getting a little scuffed up is just part of the Crownsguard deal, isn’t it?”

“To a certain degree, yes. But basic training is as much for instruction as it is to test combat skills, and I saw no attempts being made to help you correct your mistakes,” Cor says, and Prompto cringes a little at the realization that Cor had been _watching_ him, had probably seen him get his ass handed to him more than a few times. “There are many amongst the Crownsguard who are embittered that the prince has chosen a commoner over them, especially since you are known to hold the prince’s favor. I think it's very likely that you have been the target of their frustrations.”

“I-” Prompto stutters, unsure what to say to that. He’s torn between the insecurity crawling in his gut at the suggestion that he was being singled out - a fear he’d had from the beginning - and the mix of emotions that come with the realization that _a lot_ of people knew about his and Noct’s relationship. He’d just gotten to terms with the fact that the _King_ knew, based on the gentle, sympathetic look he’d gotten when he’d sworn Prompto into the Crystal’s magic.

_“Known to hold the prince’s favor.”_ Cor’s tone was neutral when he’d said it, but Prompto still can’t stop the flush on his neck. After all, it’s just a polite and unbiased way to describe all the rumors of their relationship (all true, but _still_ ) that had no doubt been circulating the Citadel for the past two years.  

He’s not ashamed, not regretful, not at all. He wouldn’t trade the last two years he spent with Noctis and all their warmth and light for _anything._ But it’s strange that everyone seems to know about him before he’s even met them. It’s not a place he’s been before, and it’s not a place he thinks he’ll get comfortable being in any time soon.

Cor watches him for a moment, gives him a look that’s almost pity and rests a steady hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not telling you all this to discourage you, Prompto, but the reality is that people will always talk about the circumstances that brought you here. Regardless, you _must_ take pride in yourself and your place at the prince’s side. Ignis and Gladiolus were always meant to follow him, but Prince Noctis _chose_ you,” Cor gives his shoulder a firm squeeze and Prompto tries not to ruin the moment by flinching because he’s landed right on a bruise. “That is an honor _and_ a responsibility. Do not let the opinions of other people distract you from this truth.”

“Y-yes, sir,” he says, letting the words sink in. It’ll take a while for it to _really_ sink in, but just for the moment, he lets himself believe Cor. More surely, he repeats, “Yes, sir.”

Cor steps back, gives him an appraising look, and then gives him a short nod of approval.

“Now then, take this and we’ll begin with the basics of combat.” Cor holds out a hand and suddenly a gun appears in a shimmer of blue light. When Prompto doesn’t move to take it, Cor holds it out more insistently. “It’s a practice gun, it only shoots blanks.”

“A gun?” Prompto gulps, picking it up delicately. He’d handled fake guns at the arcade, sure, but the weight of the real deal is uncomfortably new. Either way, his fingers find the trigger and safety with an ease that surprises both himself and Cor, if the slight raise of an eyebrow is any indication. “Right, so. Um, what do you want me to shoot?”

“I want you to shoot _me,”_ Cor says and widens his stance as a long and terrifying sword appears in his hand.

Cor lunges at him before he can process just how terrified he is, though he lets out an undignified yelp on pure instinct. Still, it’s easier to move with the gun than it was with all the other weapons he’s tried, so it's easy enough for him to tumble under the wide arc the sword cuts where his head used to be. He has just enough time to scramble behind a pillar before he hears Cor’s sword make hard contact with the marble and something about the sound flips a switch in Prompto. He lets out a shaky breath, fingers turning off the safety on the gun, and tracks the click of Cor’s boots from the other side of the pillar.

As he hears them just around the corner - _close enough to strike,_ his mind supplies - Prompto darts back towards the center of the room to put as much distance as he can between himself and the Marshal before planting both feet solidly on the ground. He swings the gun around and fires immediately, feeling like an observer in his own body as he watches the bullet _(_ _bullet?! )_  he’d aimed squarely at Cor’s head ricochet off the sharp blade of a katana in a flurry of sparks.

“S-sir?!” Prompto yelps, quickly aiming the gun, the _actually loaded_ gun, at the floor and fumbling at the safety.

“Not bad, Prompto,” Cor says as he sheathes his sword, entirely too nonchalant for a guy that Prompto almost _shot in the head._ “Your maneuverability definitely improved with a smaller weapon, and you’re a much better shot than I expected. Have you used a firearm before?”

“N-no, I-” Prompto stutters. “Sir, I- those _weren’t blanks!”_

“You wouldn’t have fired them if I’d told you they were live.” Cor shrugs, as if _that_ was an explanation. “We’ll work with the gun from here on out. Your aim might have been a fluke, but you’re quick on your feet and you’ve got a good reaction time, regardless. That’s more than enough to work with.”

Prompto would be flattered, if he still wasn’t processing the fact that “Sir, I could have _killed you!”_

Cor, once again, shrugs. “They wouldn’t call me 'The Immortal' if I was that easy to kill.”

***

Prompto doesn’t see his friends again until the day before they’re set to leave.

Cor’s the one who leads him to pick up his uniform, and maybe it’s the week of improving his aim and reflexes punctuated with praise and blunt but constructive criticism, but he doesn’t feel as totally out of place as he did on his way to his fitting for the first time with Gladio.

Gladio seems to notice this as well.

“Look who’s got a pep in their step,” he says, as he leads Prompto back towards the gates of the Citadel, uniforms in hand.

Prompto just grins and opens up the garment cover to show Gladio the little patch on his vest he’d managed to sneak into his customizations. “Cool, huh?”

_“Cute,”_ Gladio says, wrinkling his nose at the profanity written on it. “I remember what it was like to be an edgy college student. You know, you have to _apply_ for a new uniform unless that one gets destroyed, so you’re stuck with _that_ until you outgrow it. And just so you know, Iggy’s gonna give you an earful about ‘behaving yourself with the dignity your new status affords’ when he sees it.”

“New status?”

“Noct didn’t tell you?” Gladio raises an eyebrow at him. He lets out a hard laugh when Prompto shakes his head. “Shit, you’re really flying into this blind, aren’t you? Y’know, just because the fine print’s _fine print_ doesn’t mean you can skip it.”

“Ok, ok. So maybe I didn’t ask enough questions,” Prompto admits, flushing. “But I didn’t think there was anything more to this Crownsguard business than...the guarding?”

Gladio gives him a hard slap on the shoulder that almost sends him teetering off the steps of the Citadel. “Well, if you’d bothered _asking,_ you’d know that just seeing Noctis to Altissia counts as an act of service equivalent to directly defending the life of the Crown during wartime.” Gladio sighs when Prompto can only tilt his head. “Means when you come back, your family gets a royal title or you can apply to be considered a constituent of a larger household.”

“Whoa, _weird,”_ is all Prompto can think to say. That’s a _major thing,_ definitely, but it seems so _fantastical_ that he can’t really process it as a new, _very real_ development in his life. He gets a laugh out of Gladio, at least.

“Weird is right,” Gladio says. “Still processing it myself. Seems like just yesterday you were the mess I had to carry home from the bar, and now you’re one road trip away from carrying an entire house.”

“An _entire_ house?” Prompto grimaces. “Hey, about that ‘apply to a larger household,’ thing. You think the Amicitias have got an opening?”

“If you’re hoping for someone you can toss your paperwork onto - and _yeah,_ there’s paperwork - go bother Ignis,” Gladio says, but he pulls Prompto into a headlock anyway. “I’ve already got my hands full as it is, I don’t need another brat with heart eyes for Prince Charmless to look after.”

“Oh, man,” Prompto winces. He distinctly remembers how Gladio had warned him about being “lovey-dovey” with Noctis in front of his little sister to avoid destroying her lovesick preteen heart. “Sorry, Iris.”

“Yeah well, she’s mostly given up on him, after the wedding was announced and all,” Gladio says, releasing Prompto from the headlock and putting him an arm’s distance away. “Been meaning to ask, but how are _you_ holdin’ up? Iris’s taking it pretty bad, and _she’s_ not the one who was dating him.”

Two years ago, Prompto probably would have flinched. But Prompto’s twenty now and he’s known Gladio for almost four years. He knows that while Gladio is blunt in a way that can be misinterpreted as tactless from the outside, he’s probably only doing so because he’s guessed that that’s exactly what Prompto needs. Prompto’s been avoiding Ignis for the opposite reason: he knows Ignis will be treading eggshells until he’s certain he won’t hurt Prompto, but Prompto doesn’t _need_ that. So he’s glad that it’s Gladio that asked.

“I’m fine,” he says. And it’s mostly true.

He and Noctis haven’t really _talked_ about the wedding. It’s not so much them avoiding the conversation as it is one of the things they had developed a silent understanding of over the years.

Prompto, always the pragmatist, understood that one day Noctis would have to continue his line. That was a pretty essential duty, considering the whole “Crystal’s Chosen Bloodline” business. He wasn’t here to wreck a home and end a bloodline that the Gods themselves had blessed and an entire country stood upon. He had just hoped and prayed for only two things: that whoever Noctis would one day marry would be someone that could make him happy, and that he wouldn’t be left behind and forgotten.

It’s selfish of him, but if he could keep Noctis in his life in any way, he thinks he’d be ok. And Noctis had spent years reassuring him of this fact. When they were sixteen, he’d made Prompto promise to keep a cat that he could visit whenever he wanted when they got older. Shortly after Prompto turned eighteen, he’d gotten a copy of the key to Noctis’ apartment and Ignis started keeping track of his favorite foods. When nineteen came around, Noct got Prompto lifetime security clearance to visit the Amicitia and Scientia households adjoined to the Citadel, the closest thing he could get to giving Prompto access to the Citadel Proper.

And at twenty, he’s given Prompto the Crystal’s magic and a royal title, and asked Prompto to dedicate his life to him.

It wasn't a hard sell by any means. Prompto’s future was shaky at best, as hard as he’d tried these past twenty years to give himself something stable. He kept switching between his interests and found himself not completely satisfied with any of them. And in truth he’d always wanted to be a part of the strange world his friends lived in, but wasn’t sure how to ask or even if he was _allowed_ to ask.

And he’s doubly happy that the wedding they’d been approaching with inevitability turned out to be with Lady Lunafreya.

Noctis is excited to see her, as hard as he tries to hide behind nonchalance, and that’s honestly a relief for Prompto. To be truthful, he’s just as excited to meet Luna as Noct is. Her letter still rests in the drawer of his desk, carefully kept and always separate from the rest of his mess of school and camera supplies. If it hadn’t been for her, he would have lived a very different life from the one he lives now. He owes just as much to her as he does Noctis.

And he knows Luna is and always has been important to Noctis - has always been considered as precious to him as any of his companions - and everyone important to Noctis has invariably become important to Prompto.

So he’s fine, mostly fine. He’ll be better once he sees Noct again. The last time they'd been together was almost a week ago, when Noctis had pulled Prompto aside after his induction into the Crownsguard to press a kiss to his forehead _(not on the lips, that felt too much like cheating since the treaty was announced)_ before he was called away by his father. If it weren’t for all the other things on his mind, Prompto’s sure he’d feel more anxious about how long they hadn't seen each other.

“I’ll _be_ fine,” he repeats, with more finality.

“Keeping it together, at least,” Gladio says, after a moment of looking Prompto over, probably searching for some hint of a wound that he thought Prompto was hiding. “Thought you’d manage, you were always less _dramatic_ than his highness. Dad says the Council’s been anxious for a while now ‘bout how smitten he is with you.”

“Coulda _probably_ gone without knowing that, big guy,” Prompto grimaces at the reminder of just how _far_ his reputation preceded him.

“Yeah, well you were going to hear some whispers sooner or later. Think it’s better for you to know the details than to let you cook them up in your head,” Gladio rustles his hair for emphasis. _That’s fair,_ he thinks. He’s hit with a rush of gratitude to Gladio for all the quiet, knowing ways he’s been looking out for Prompto. First with Cor, and now, for spilling all the royal gossip. Maybe he’ll buy him some Cup Noodles with his first Crownsguard paycheck.

“Long story short, old geezers were worried the prince wouldn’t be able to cut ties with you to ‘continue his line,’ as they _loved_ putting it, and that the King would be too soft on you two to make him. Honestly, I think I at least get where they were coming from. If the treaty weren’t hinging on it _and_ if it weren’t for the fact that it’s Lady Lunafreya, I’m sure his royal loverboy would find some loophole to jump through to get out of the wedding and keep you around.”

Prompto laughs in spite of himself, because that definitely sounds like a _very Noctis_ thing to do. Then, something dawns on him, and he’s laughing harder. “Wait! That’s _totally_ what he did, though! The 'keeping me around' part!”

Gladio raises an eyebrow at him, then lets out a huff of laughter. “Huh, guess you’re right. Crafty bastard and _spoiled brat_ to a fault.”

“What’d you expect? He’s a prince,” Prompto wipes at his eyes. “Or so I’m told. Still not _totally_ convinced.”

Gladio snorts. “Y’know if you’re still looking to get absorbed by a household, you might just make it as a Scientia. Harping on royalty is a part of the family legacy.”

“Awww, but Noct would get jealous.”

“That he would.”

***

Gladio must have told Ignis about their talk sometime between separating to see their families and meeting up again to clean Noct’s apartment, because Prompto only gets one appraising look before the kid gloves come off.

“Before you ask, I _won’t_ do your paperwork,” Ignis says.

Prompto just laughs.

***

Cleaning Noct’s apartment is a regular walk down memory lane. Prompto sees bits of himself everywhere - literally, everywhere: clothes, comic books, video games - and it ends up getting so bad that Ignis labels a box for Prompto's things after Gladio's joking question about when Prompto planned on moving out led to an awkward and heavy silence. The mood stays relatively light otherwise, though, even if it feels a little like a goodbye.

Prompto’s just happy to be here again, to be around Noctis, who’s a mix of anxious and excited in a way that bleeds into every smile and laugh that’s coaxed out of him. They finish up somewhere close to midnight and all settle down to sleep in Noct’s living room. He and Noct are unsurprisingly the last ones awake; Ignis sleeps right away and Gladio gives up on playing King’s Knight with them sometime around one in the morning.

It’s not long after Gladio’s breathing evens out that Noct’s hand circles his wrist and he nods towards the bedroom. Prompto gives him a mock scandalized look and Noct laughs quietly but pulls harder on his wrist until Prompto gets up to follow him. He lets himself be led to sit on Noct’s bed, now just a bare mattress in the middle of the room, and gives Noctis another scandalized look. Noct’s laugh this time is a little louder as he settles down to sit cross-legged across from Prompto.

“You can access the Armory, right?” is the first thing Noct says, voice still quiet.

When Prompto nods, he takes Prompto’s hand and lays it palm up on his lap. Prompto doesn’t even have time to ask what he’s doing before there’s a flash of blue and a gun appears in his palm.

“Cor told me you’re good with guns,” Noctis explains, as Prompto lets his fingers wrap around the weapon.

It’s still strange how natural it feels to hold a gun in his hands. It’s something even Cor had thought was odd, though he hadn’t said it in words so much as the looks he gave Prompto whenever he flawlessly adjusted to the aim of a new gun. He tries not to think about it, though, which is easy with how new and nice _this_ gun looks. It’s the same model as the one he’d been favoring in practice for how easy it was to modify, but it seems unused. It’s clean, sturdy and simple aside from a small engraving near the butt of the gun. ‘ _Quicksilver,’_ it reads, in fine, looping print. And old nickname from high school, _clearly customized._ Prompto blinks at Noctis as he lets it disappear back into the Armory before it can go off on accident.

“What’s with the look?” Noct says with a fond laugh. “You’re one of my Crownsguard now. Buying you this kind of thing is normal, at least.”

“I don’t know,” Prompto says, suddenly sheepish. “I guess I figured there was like, a rental thing going.”

“As if I’d let you use _a rental,”_ Noct smirks and raises an eyebrow at him. “Wanna make sure you stay safe out there.”

Then, before Prompto can point out that _he’s_ supposed to be the one protecting _Noctis,_ the mood shifts abruptly. Noctis looks thoughtful, almost troubled, and it’s so different from the anxious excitement from before that Prompto can’t think of anything to say to break the tension. So he just reaches out and takes Noct’s hand.

“Prompto,” Noctis finally says. “I should have asked you this a long time ago, but what is it that _you_ want? If you don’t want to become part of my personal guard, that’s fine. If you don’t want to go on the trip anymore, that’s ok, too. If you’re just following me because you think it’s what I want, then _don’t_ . It’s more important to me that you’re safe and that you’re living the life _you_ want to live. And if that’s not with me anymore, then that’s how it is. I-I'll understand.”

His voice is barely above a whisper by the end of it, eyes firmly on the mattress, and Prompto realizes belatedly that maybe he’d made a mistake by assuming everything was understood between the two of them. Noct looks so unsure and anxious, and it’s so different from almost four years ago, when he’d had to learn from Ignis that Noctis was insecure about their friendship, when Noctis was so careful about letting any of his emotions slip through. It’s a strange time for it to sink in, but Prompto thinks Noctis looks truly _regal_ in this moment, even with all his vulnerability illuminated in the faint lights streaming in from the city. He looks like someone Prompto would gladly give his life for. 

And even though Prompto has always known he would follow Noctis wherever he went, it’s the first time he’s felt confident that he _could._ So he squeezes Noct’s fingers, leans up to kiss him on the forehead like Noct had almost a week ago, and decides that it'll be the last. The finality of it doesn't hit as hard as he thought it was going to, it doesn't hurt him as much as Noctis is probably imagining it is.

They were friends first, after all. They were _best_ friends. 

“I already told you, didn’t I?” he says with a soft smile as Noct tentatively meets his gaze. “You’re stuck with me for the long haul.”

It’s not the right thing to say, though, because Noct’s face just scrunches up and he looks back to the mattress. “Prompto, I just- You don’t _need_ to be. I mean, it can’t be easy for you, we’ve barely talked about breaking up and now I just-”

“Hey,” he interrupts as gently as he can. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet about bringing me along, are you?”

“No,” Noctis says, firmly. _“Not_ that. I just -”

“Then why don’t you _just_ let this guy decide for himself then?” he teases, and that gets a small smile from Noctis. “Tell me, though, do you love her?”

“I think so,” Noctis admits after a moment of silence. He squeezes Prompto’s hand tight and Prompto wants to laugh because _there he goes again,_ feeling guilty over nothing. “I know that I miss her so much it hurts sometimes, at least. And I know it’s selfish of me but I love you, too. I haven’t stopped. It’s complicated and selfish, but I still _love you._ It’s just- a _lot_ of things at once.”

“Noct, it’s fine,” he laughs, quiet, and runs a thumb over Noctis’ knuckles. If he’s honest, he’s a little giddy to hear it. They’d gotten used to saying the big L word without turning complimentary shades of red only a year ago, after all, and despite everything it still makes Prompto’s heart beat a little faster. “I’m happy for you. Really, I am. And I still love you, too. I always will. But I _get_ it. Just, promise me you won’t forget about me?”

“I’d _never,”_ Noctis says, gripping Prompto’s fingers so tight it’s almost painful. “Prompto, you didn’t seriously believe that I’d just forget about you like that, did you?”

“First of all, show a guy some mercy. Those are the _moneymakers_ you’re squeezing,” Prompto teases. Noct has the decency to look sheepish as he loosens his death grip. “And I figured you wouldn’t. It’s just...nice to hear, you know?”

“Of course,” Noct says, relaxing only when Prompto continues to rub a soothing path over his knuckles. It takes a while for Noct's tense lines to finally sag until they’re leaning close together, foreheads almost touching. “I know I didn’t act like it just now, but I’m happy you’re coming with us, Prompto.”

“Happy to be here,” he grins. “And I’m excited to meet Lady Lunafreya!”

Noct laughs again, but this one is distinctly relieved. “I’m glad. I can’t believe I’m going to see her again, either. It's been so long.”

“Last time you saw her you were shorter than her, right?”

“Only a _little_ shorter,” Noctis huffs, but he’s got a thoughtful look on his face not a moment after. “She knew about us, you know.”

“Oh man,” Prompto grimaces at the _implications._ He’s really not prepared for this whole reputation preceding him thing. “She knows I’m not gonna try to be some... _Other Dude,_ right? You gotta _tell her,_ man! Tell her I’m not trying to be _The Other Dude!”_

Noct laughs, open and light and loud enough that Prompto has to release his hands to muffle the sound so Gladio doesn’t wake up and yell at them to _go to sleep._ This ends up in a small-scale scuffle that brings them down to the mattress where they end up settling down, lying side by side. Noct’s still laughing, but it’s quiet enough that Prompto can go back to holding his hand between them.

“N-no, Prompto,” Noct finally says, still shaking with laughter and cheek half-squashed into the mattress. “She doesn’t think _that_. I told you because, well, she _likes you_ already. And I just, I think you’ll get along. We should all hang out, once things are settled.”

He knows Noctis well enough by now to know that that’s not all he wanted to say, but there’s something tentative and hopeful and his tone that Prompto recognizes. Like he’s afraid to say what he knows out loud, afraid that it’ll change things too much. It’s something Prompto recognizes from himself, and all the times he’s wanted to ask something _(to be allowed to stay by Noct’s side)_ but was too afraid of the repercussions to say it.

And it’s something he knows not to push before it’s ready, that it’s just as bad to force out as it is to hold in.

But it’s ok. They have time.

They have the rest of their lives.

“If you’re sure,” is all he says. He threads their fingers together and lets himself wish for a happy future. Then he gives Noct a playful smirk. “Anyway, what _is_ it with you and blondes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im ...so sorr...so sorry
> 
> tbh this just happened b/c i was like “i think if anyone could be amicable exes it’s these two nerds” but if i’m gonna be real, my ideal good ending that i hinted at is one where kingsglaive!prompto, noctis and luna are in a love triangle, but not that nasty kind where they’re competing for each other’s attention, i mean a triangle where each of them are the vertices and their arms form the edges, i’m talkin a literal triangle here, where they r holding hands and discussing their shared future in soft voices. prompto and luna supporting noctis when he feels the pressure of the crown or is overwhelmed by his insecurities. prompto and noctis helping luna when her duties as oracle weaken her and cause her pain, cheering her up and making sure she remembers to take care of herself b/c she always puts her needs last. noctis and luna constantly reassuring prompto that he is very important to them and reminding him that even though his duty is to protect them, they never want him to sacrifice himself for them. healthy polyamory y’all, that’s what i’m sellin here
> 
> but that's me and ur welcome to ignore the future in any way that u want, and i may be ignoring the future in more things yet to come! wink wink nudge nudge crownsguard after party 
> 
> anyway, thank you all so much for the ride on the Good Time train! I'm so grateful for all the support you've given me this far! u can yell at me in the comments or on [tumblr](http://brosura.tumblr.com/) with your comments or grievances b/c i know i deserve at least the grievances lmao sorry


End file.
